


Turn the Page

by PenguinMerchant



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Auguste Lives, M/M, Nicaise Lives, but is only in it for like two seconds, but only mentioned, uncle's there too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:20:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22551667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PenguinMerchant/pseuds/PenguinMerchant
Summary: Damen visits the DeVere bookstore almost every morning before work, sometimes to browse but mostly just to chat with the friendly proprietor Auguste.  But when Auguste goes on vacation for a few weeks and his younger brother Laurent takes over, Damen finds a new reason to start visiting more often.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 102
Kudos: 511
Collections: Captive Prince Modern AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "Bridge to Terabithia"! It's a minor thing but just in case.
> 
> The geography in this is a little wonky, I imagined this taking place somewhere like Boston but there's also some places from the CaPri universe here. I say go with the flow, baby. I hope you guys enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated M.

Damen hops off the bus on a cold Monday morning and starts walking in the opposite direction from his office and the work he knows is waiting for him there. He'll have to go, and soon, but for now he turns down a familiar street, windy and cobbled and narrow from when horses and carriages were the only conveyance around and the buildings were built out of brick and mortar instead of glass and steel. He sees the entrance to his favorite place and picks up his steps a little. He's always excited to stop by here in the morning and chat with Auguste, the friendly proprietor, but last night his home team had crushed Auguste's team into the dirt and he can't wait to rub the victory into Auguste's face, so today has a little more urgency than most days. With a strong push he opens the door to the DeVere Bookstore. The bells above the door chime out in a pleasing, familiar tone, welcoming him inside.

"Gus!" he calls out gleefully, knowing it's early enough that there won't be any other customers here yet. He turns the corner to see--

\--not Auguste, but a young man, maybe early twenties, all blonde hair and blue eyes and a stare as icy as the December winter that's whirling around outside. 

"Auguste isn't here," the man says coldly, as if Damen wasn't capable of figuring that out when he saw it wasn't his friend sitting behind the counter. "And he hates being called that, by the way." 

"That's why I do it," Damen says, setting down his bag by the counter and unwrapping his scarf. The man behind the counter--Damen knows it must be Auguste's younger brother, his coloring and profile is too similar for them not to be related, not to mention he's sitting back there like he owns the place--looks at him distastefully as it becomes clear he's not leaving, but doesn't move to say anything else. 

"You must be Laurent," Damen says, into the silence.

"Must I?" Laurent says, exasperated. Damen has the feeling that if he could somehow renounce his name and get out of this conversation, he would. "At least it's a little harder to make into an embarrassing nickname." 

"Lolo," says Damen before he can stop himself, and watches with growing fascination as a flush creeps up Laurent's neck and splashes into his cheeks.

"Do _not_ call me that," Laurent says, icily.

"All right, Laurent," Damen says, smiling. "My name is--" 

"Damianos. I know who you are," Laurent says, turning his attention back to the book he was reading when Damen came in. "Auguste warned me about you." 

"I hardly believe he _warned_ you," Damen says, turning to browse through the new books by the front desk, his morning ritual. "I'm sure he let you know about his most favorite customer, but I don't think I'm such a menace that I would require a _warning_." 

Laurent just snorts at this, and Damen smiles, knowing Laurent can't see him from his position. Auguste always talks fondly about his little brother, whenever discussions of family come up in their conversations, but Damen has no illusions about Laurent being what one would exactly call customer service friendly. There was a reason, and a good one, Damen was finding, that Laurent mostly kept to the back, dealing with new acquisitions and online sales. 

"I don't suppose you watched the game last night, did you?" He asks after a moment. He had forgotten that Auguste was going on vacation this week, although he knows they had talked about it at some point, but he really wanted to rub his team's win in Auguste's face and by the time he got back the time would have passed for it. 

When he looks up, Laurent is looking at him with the same expression of distaste he had on when Damen made it clear that he was staying, and Damen rolls his eyes. 

"It wouldn't kill you to be polite to customers, you know," he says. He knows that he's just riling Laurent up and that he should probably just shut his mouth and go, but he can't help enjoying how annoyed he is.

"Oh? Are you actually going to buy something, then? I thought you were just here to gloat about beating Auguste's team." 

"I was here for that, yes. But I can buy things too, you know. Any recommendations?" 

Laurent nods his head towards the back of the store. "Kids books are on the left." And, when Damen doesn't move, "Not a lot of words in those books. I figure you're more of a picture person." 

Damen feels like he should probably be offended, but he can't help but let out a small huff of a laugh. He obediently goes to check out the kids book section, and after a few minutes of browsing comes back up to the front with his purchase. He sets in on the counter, and waits for Laurent to check him out. 

" _Alexander and the Horrible, Terrible, No Good Very Bad Day._ " Laurent reads the title out loud as he punches Damen's purchase into the register. "A souvenir of your first encounter with me, then?" 

"No, a gift," Damen says, and leaves the book on the counter after tucking his change away. "I foresee that you'll have a lot of time on your hands after you scare away all of your customers with your charming wit." 

"For some of us reading a children's book is not an all day prospect," Laurent says, but he's not displeased, Damen can tell, and he doesn't throw the book at him, and as he gathers up his accoutrements and heads back out into the icy winter morning he thinks it's just a little warmer than when he went in. 

******

Damen doesn't usually visit the bookstore every morning, and he knows that Auguste won't be there for at least another week, but he finds himself wandering over that way before work again the next day anyway. It has absolutely nothing to do with the attractive and prickly blonde that's running the register right now, he tells himself. No. Definitely not. Which is probably a good thing, as Laurent doesn't even look up from his book as Damen enters and sets his stuff down by the counter. 

He browses through the new acquisitions, the newly purchased books that haven't quite made it to their specific shelves yet and are hoping to be picked up by someone before needing to be put away properly, and then he sees it. Incongruous, among the old and creaking books--a children's book, larger than the others and sticking out at an odd angle. Strange, because he's never seen any children's books featured here before this moment, and there aren't any others except this one. He feels his pulse kick as he gently grabs it and looks at the title. _The Book With No Pictures_. He turns to look at Laurent, who is studiously ignoring him, and smiles. 

This isn't here by accident. He was meant to find it; a peace offering, maybe, or maybe just a start to what Damen is slowly beginning to hope might be considered flirting. By some standards, at least.

"You're graduating, I see," Laurent says when Damen brings it up, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips like he wasn't the one who put that book there. "Soon you'll be all grown up and ready to read Harry Potter." 

"Hey, don't knock it till you've tried it," Damen says, tucking the book in his bag. "What're you reading, anyway?" 

Laurent tips up his book, shows Damen the cover. It's old, and features a gilt _fleur-de-lis_ set under excessively ornate, swoopy text, also in gold, and it's in French. 

"French poetry," Laurent says. "Very few pictures."

" _Ah, mais les Français font un si bel art,_ " Damen says, watching as Laurent stills and looks back at him with an inscrutable expression. 

"Huh," says Laurent. 

*****

"What do you think is a good book to give as a gift to let someone know you're interested in them?" 

Nikandros groans, instead of answering with anything helpful, and Damen looks up from his fruitless Amazon searching to glare at him. 

"I wondered why your head seemed to be in the clouds all day," he says, shooting Damen a tired look. 

"My head is not in the clouds," Damen says, but he finds it hard to be irritable with his oldest friend and he can't quite make his tone as dour as he wants. "It is firmly down here with the rest of me, thank you very much." 

"In the meeting today you called the new project we started last week the 'building thingy for the science stuff'."

"Anyone can have a brain fart, Nik. I'm getting old, you're going to have to get used to my lapses in logical thought." 

Nik snorts. "You're 26. That's hardly old. And I've gotten used to your 'lapses in thought' by the time we were through with college, thank you very much. In fact, I seem to remember me warning you against one of those lapses, not too long ago, and look how that turned out."

"Do not," Damen says, "drag her into this, Nik, or I swear to God...."

"She's your sister in law now, Damen. You'll have to get used to seeing and hearing about her eventually." 

"Half sister in law." Damen grumbles. Nik doesn't push it, though; Damen knows as well as anyone how Nik warned him against her, and against his half brother, to no avail. But this is well trod ground, and Damen has no interest in retreading it. 

"Is this new book loving paramour of yours a blonde, by chance?" Nik asks. 

"He might have blonde hair, yes," Damen says, although blonde isn't the right word for it. Golden, might be better, although that's not quite right either. That color of sunshine when it slants through the forest in autumn, maybe, or the way a candle flame reflects off the surface of a mirror in a lover's bedroom. 

Damen must have been quiet for too long, because Nik looks at him steadily and then sighs and gets up, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

"Lord save me," he says, and slams Damen's office door shut. 

*****

Laurent still hasn't quite mastered the art of greeting customers when they enter the shop, but he tilts his head, slightly, when Damen comes in the next day and Damen figures that's probably the most friendly he's been since he's had to take over front desk duties. Laurent's got a pile of ancient looking books sitting next to him on the counter, and as Damen sets down his bag he watches as Laurent gently lifts up one of the books from the pile, holds it softly in his hands and turns the page with such reverence that Damen finds himself flushing. 

"Anything interesting?" He asks, hoping his voice doesn't come out too strangled.

Laurent sends him a cool gaze over the top of the book, and then turns back to his research. 

"Depends on what you find interesting."

Damen shrugs. "I dunno, I think old books are kind of cool."

There's that calculating gaze again, and Laurent pauses for a fraction of a second before turning the book in his hands and holding it out to Damen. He takes it from him, gently, mimicking Laurent's own movements after Laurent nods at him.

"It's not valuable," Laurent says once Damen has it in his hands, and Damen scowls at him, "but it is old, and more than a little fragile."

Damen carefully opens up the book to the front page, and smiles. 

"Look!" He says, still holding it gently despite Laurent's claims that it wasn't worth anything. Big, loopy letters are scrawled across the first page, along with a child's drawing of what may or may not be a dog, and Damen shows them to Laurent. "This was dedicated to someone named Vita, in 1885. Aww, it was a Christmas present."

"Unfortunately that's also what makes the book practically worthless," Laurent says, taking the book back from Damen. Their fingers brush, for the barest second, and Damen starts at the touch. Laurent seems to not have noticed, and he continues. "Unless that signature is from someone famous, it only devalues the book."

"I think it has heart," Damen says, in defense of the book. It really is beautiful, with a cute illustration on the cover and gilt edges, worthless though it may be.

"You can't charge for heart."

"Really? Isn't that the whole reason people come to bookstores?" Damen asks, and, at Laurent's carefully blank gaze, "To find a piece of their heart? Isn't that the whole reason we have books at all?"

Laurent stills for a moment, and when he looks back up at Damen he has what may be the first genuine smile Damen has seen from him. It pierces through Damen's heart as sure as a well placed arrow would.

"I thought the reason people came to bookstores was to get out of the morning cold, and to bother the employees that are trying to work."

"It can be two things," Damen says, and Laurent gives him one of those rare, secret smiles again and Damen knows that he's a goner.

*********

"Here," says Laurent, without preamble, when Damen comes in the next morning. Damen sets his stuff down by the door and leans over the counter, where he sees a fairly ratty book sitting incongruous among the overly decorated antique books that Laurent is always surrounded by.

" _Bridge to Terabithia_ ," Damen says, reading the title.

"So you can read," Laurent smirks at him. "Have you read it before?"

Damen shakes his head and picks up the copy, pulling out his wallet. "Nope. I'll take it though, if you're recommending it. How much?"

"It's not for sale," Laurent says, and Damen looks over at him, confused. Was this some sort of weird power play? Some strange kink that bookstore employees used to torture people? 

"It's my copy," he says, when it becomes obvious that Damen doesn't comprehend what's going on. "I'm letting you borrow it. If you want."

"Wow. Isn't that, like, antithetical to the whole concept of a bookstore?"

"I knew this was a mistake," Laurent grumbles, and reaches to grab the book. Damen's faster, though, and whisks it off the counter before Laurent can grab it.

"No, no. It was a joke. I...this means a lot, Laurent, thank you."

"It's just a book," Laurent says, but he's blushing now and Damen can barely stand looking at him, he's so beautiful. He feels his heart lurch and he reaches down to put the book carefully in his bag, making sure it won't get damaged by brushing up against all of his other papers. He has to fight the urge to sit down on the floor and start reading right now; he wants to see why Laurent chose this book, out of all of the books at his disposal, and even more than that he's almost giddy with the thought that he gets to read something from Laurent's personal collection.

"So do you make it a habit to lend books out to all the customers that come in every day to pester you?" Damen asks, now that the book is safely out of Laurent's reach.

"You should know, since you're such a regular visitor--apparently--that I don't really work out here that often. So you'll have to excuse me if I'm not too familiar with all of the intricacies of dealing with annoying customers. I figured maybe if I gave you something to read you'd stop bothering me every day, but this is my first experiment. If it doesn't work I'll try something different next time."

Damen laughs, and Laurent looks annoyed.

"You're supposed to be offended when someone tells you something like that, you know," Laurent tells him. 

"I figured that's what you were going for. But I just like talking to you too much; you're definitely going to have to up your game if you want to get rid of me," he says with a smile. "Plus I work like, a block away from here, and it's just so convenient. This place has got a lot of things going for it, you know."

"We try," Laurent says with a wry smile. 

********

"Nik, we've got a problem."

Damen can hear Nik sigh on the other end of the line.

"I'm guessing since you never stress out about work this much that it's about book boy. Is it about book boy?"

"His name is Laurent," Damen says, "which you know and yes, this is about him."

"Okay, what did he do." Nik sounds resigned to this conversation.

"He lent me a book."

"So what? I lent you John Wick and you still haven't watched it _or_ given it back yet."

"I'm gonna watch it, Nik, jeez. But that's the point--we're friends." Nik grumbles something on the other end of the line that Damen is pretty glad he isn't able to hear. "Friends lend each other stuff like this. Do you think he thinks we're friends?"

"Okay Damen, calm down. Do you want to hear my sure fire way for finding out what's going on?"

Damen knows he'll regret it, but he says yes.

"Here's what you do. Get a piece of paper. Write your name at the top, so he knows its from you. Then, underneath that, make three boxes. Got it?"

"Are you seriously--"

"Then you write, 'do you like me, yes, no, or maybe, and have him check the box with the answer that corresponds to his feelings. I'm telling you it's a sure thing, Damen. It'll work."

"I hate you."

"You know what, you're right. That's too ambiguous. Two boxes, just yes or no. Leave out the maybe, that'll just confuse things."

Damen hangs up the phone.

********

"DeVere books, how can I help you?" 

"You didn't tell me that she died at the end." 

"I'm sorry?" 

"You didn't tell me Leslie was going to die at the end," Damen repeated. 

"Well I wasn't going to spoil the book for you. Why are you calling me at work?" 

"It's a book related emergency. Who else am I supposed to call?" 

"Don't you have a job you're supposed to be at right now? Or do you just spend your day wandering around the city, bothering bookstore employees?" 

"I do have a job but like I said, it's an emergency. She died, Laurent. It was horrible and really sad. I'm really sad now. I don't think I'll be able to work for the rest of the day. I'm hiding in the bathroom right now." 

"Okay, okay. Noted. No more sad books. Happy endings only. If only to make sure you don't get fired for being too sad at work." 

"Thank you," Damen says, and pauses. He _was_ really sad about the book, he wasn't lying about that, but he had also never been one to wallow in his sadness for too long--it had only taken him a few weeks to forgive his ex-girlfriend for sleeping with his _brother_ , for gods sake--and he always took an opportunity when he saw one. "You know, if you gave me your number I wouldn't have to call and bug you during work hours." 

There's a pause from Laurent's end, this time, and for a moment Damen thinks Laurent might have hung up on him, except he can hear the background sounds of the shop still coming from the other end of the line. 

"You mean that you want to not only bother me at work by coming in and distracting me every morning, but while I'm off the clock, too," Laurent says, but there's no heat to his words and Damen finds himself smiling. 

"You think I'm distracting? Okay, on a 1-10 distraction scale, with a 1 being those people that aggressively sell banana bread to you and a 10 being the most attractive person you've ever seen trying to flirt with you, where would you rate me?" 

"If this is what talking to you on the phone entails then I'm definitely out."

"Fine. What if I promised it would be for book related emergencies only. Would that suit?" 

There's a huff on the other side of the line that might, under some circumstances, be considered a laugh, and Damen is just desperate enough to consider it one. 

"How about this," Laurent says finally. "Give me _your_ number, and if I think of an especially happy book I want to recommend to you I'll text you." 

That's about a big of a win as Damen can hope to get right now, so he rattles off his number and hopes that Laurent is actually writing it down and not just humoring him and letting it slip away into thin air. 

"Okay. I really should get back to work," Laurent says. Damen allows himself the small pleasure of believing that he even sounds a little reluctant about it.

"I suppose I should go and try to put myself back together as well," he says. "Clean up the tear streaks and everything." 

There's another huff. "Goodbye, Damen." 

"Goodbye, Laurent." 

********

On Saturday afternoon, Damen gets a text from an unknown number. 

(1:07) _King of the Wind, by Marguerite Henry. It's got a happy ending._

(1:15) It's about horses. 

(1:16) _So? I don't recall a moratorium on horses, only sad endings._

(1:17) Okay, done and done. I'll start it tonight. 

(1:20) _If you like._

(1:21) You know, I CAN read books meant for adults. You don't always have to recommend kids books. 

(2:47) I mean, I'll take any recommendations you want to give, though. Kids or adults. I just want you to know that I am capable of reading adult books. 

(2:49) _I figured as much._

(2:50) Okay. Just so we're clear. I did like the Terabithia book, even though it was really sad. So thank you. 

(2:50) _Well, it's kind of my job. But you're welcome._

(9:38) _My nephew is staying with me while Auguste is on vacation. He's 13. I've been thinking a lot about books that he would like, and I've been trying to remember what I read at that age. So I guess kids books have been on my mind a lot lately.  
_

(9:39) Did you read King of the Wind when you were a kid? 

(9:40) _I did. I went through a horse phase around that age._

(9:41) Do you ride? 

(9:41) _Yes, there's a stable full of horses underneath the book store and I ride them through the city at night.  
_

(9:42) Wow that would be super awesome if it were true

(9:42) _It's not._

(9:42) ha ha I figured. I bet you'd look good on a horse though. 

(9:42) _Of course I do. I look good on everything.  
_

(9:44) ugh why are you like this

(9:46) _Anyway, I just wanted to tell you that it wasn't your assumed reading proficiency that made me recommend these books. If you want something more...challenging, I can think of something else._

(9:48) OMG Laurent they just sold Sham! He can't be a work horse, he's too beautiful and noble and pure! Please tell me he ends up okay! 

(9:50) _I'm going to assume that means that you're okay with my recommendations._

(9:51) only if this fucking horse is safe and sound and ends up surrounded by his loved ones, I swear to God if he's not...

(9:52) _Just keep reading. I'll let you finish your book, I promise it'll be okay._

(9:53) I trust you. Goodnight, Laurent

(9:56) _Goodnight, Damen._

********

That weekend Damen finds the perfect book to lend to Laurent, both as a reason to continue to text him about book related stuff per their agreement and because he wants to give Laurent something that's his, like Laurent had done for him. Of course it's his terrible luck that he has to work on site for the next three days and isn't able to drop it off or see Laurent at all. He thinks about texting him, letting him know that he has a present for him and that he misses their early morning conversations, but he's worried that he'll come off too strong and Nik confirms this feeling, once he gets tired enough of Damen pestering him for his opinion and is forced to weigh in on the matter. Damen, for his part, can't think of anything that would necessarily constitute a book emergency and so he spends entirely too much of his free time (and honestly, way too much of his work time as well) typing out and deleting text messages that he hopes will be clever enough that Laurent will forgive him for bothering him. He can't think of anything good enough, though, so when he finally ends up back at his office by the end of the day on Wednesday he knows that his patience is thin enough right now that he won't be able to wait until the next morning to visit the shop. 

So after work is over he heads over to the old windy street instead of going straight to the bus stop, and if there's an extra spring in his step as he does it--well, at least Nik isn't around to tease him about it. He's never made a late afternoon visit like this--for all he likes visiting the old shop, he really _does_ go there mostly for the company and to get out of the morning cold, like Laurent had accused him of--but there's no harm in trying new things, is there? He pushes the door open, the jingling bells greeting him as he walks inside and looks for Laurent. He hears the raised voices before he sees anyone, and as he comes around the corner to the front register he sees an older gentleman pointing a finger right in Laurent's face.

"What do you mean you won't give me anything for it? It's old and you buy old books, right?" 

"Old things don't inherently have value," Laurent seethes, and from his tone Damen wonders how long he's been arguing with said customer, "especially old things that have wasp hives attached to them." 

"There aren't any wasps in it, I don't see what the problem is," the man says, a little petulant. Damen can't help himself any longer and peeks around the customer's shoulder. There's a beautiful book on the counter, red leather with marbled edges and, just like Laurent had said, a giant wasp's nest attached to the left hand corner. He makes a noise of disgust and the man looks at him crossly. 

"If you don't get this biohazard out of here in the next five seconds I'm calling the police," Laurent says. His tone is low and dangerous, and the man must have some shred of self preservation because he picks up the book and storms out. 

"Long day?" Damen asks as Laurent stalks over and locks the door behind the retreating customer. 

"That's not even the worst one I've seen today. Someone brought in a box of books earlier that had a scorpion in it." 

"Gross," Damen says cheerfully. Laurent shoots him a withering glance but Damen's just so happy to see him that he can only smile back.

"So did you come here looking for something?" Laurent asks him, turning back to clean up the remnants of the wasp hive that were left behind on the counter. "Because I'm about to close the registers."

"No need for a register. I have something for you," Damen says, pulling out the book that he had carefully packed away in his bag. The cover is a little crumpled and his name is written at the top of it in large, scrawling letters, but when he hands it over Laurent treats it with the same reverence as those old, ancient books he had been looking at the other day.

"What's this?"

"Can't you read?" Damen teases, because Laurent's tone is not displeased. "It's a book I loved when I was a kid. I brought it for you. It's about this snarky cat and his lovable dog friend who solve crimes. Also there's a bunny who's a vampire, but I don't think he's in this one."

There's no reason for him to tell Laurent that he had spent five hours on a Sunday afternoon in his parents attic looking for this book; honestly, he's not sure he would admit that even with a gun to his head. He could have easily gone over to Barnes and Noble and bought a new copy and saved himself a dusty day, but he wanted Laurent to read the same one he had read as a child, flip through the same pages he had flipped through, see the little drawings he had made in the margins, see the words he had underlined when he didn't understand what they meant.

" _Howliday Inn_ ," Laurent reads from the cover, and when he opens up the front page and sees Damen's attempt at drawing the two main characters he smiles. "Makes sense that your book would have a terrible pun in the name. I guess I don't have to ask if this will have a happy ending, do I?"

Damen snorts. "I haven't changed that much from when I was nine."

"You're probably quite a bit taller now," Laurent murmurs, holding the book gently against his chest. He seems to remember himself, after a moment, and goes to tuck the book safely away in his bag before returning to the registers to start closing up for the evening.

"So is this some kind of apology for not coming in the last few mornings?"

"I knew you missed me," Damen says, unable to stop himself from grinning wildly. Luckily Laurent's too busy counting down the register to notice or to come up with a scathing retort. "I had to work on site for the last few days. You know that big pit over by the old courthouse?"

Laurent finishes counting the pennies and looks up. "The one on the other side of town?"

Damen nods. "Yeah. We just broke ground a few weeks ago on the Children's Science Center we're building, and it's already been a nightmare dealing with the city council, the permit office, all that fun stuff. Anyway, one of the construction workers found something they thought was an arrowhead so I had to go take care of that. It wasn't, of course. It never is. But I did get to drive one of the excavators that got stuck in a hole, so that was fun."

"I didn't take you for a manual labor kind of guy," Laurent says, eyeing Damen's clean slacks and button up shirt.

"Not usually. But I am certified for running pretty much any piece of equipment you want to throw at me, so I like to visit the sites as often as I can. Anyway, I figured as soon as I was back in the area I should come by and make sure that you've been properly bothered, although it seems like maybe that wasp hive and the scorpion took care of that today."

Laurent snorts, but he doesn't immediately refute what Damen said, and his voice goes soft. "It has been quiet here the last few days."

"Who the hell are you?" 

Damen jumps, a little, at the voice coming from behind him. He had thought that they were alone, since Laurent had locked the front door, but when he turns he sees a kid with tousled brown hair, air pods shoved deep into his ears and cell phone so thoroughly glued to his hand that it's almost an extension of his fingers. He's scowling, and Damen unconsciously takes a step backward.

"Maybe not that quiet," Laurent remarks dryly. "Nicaise, you want to try again?"

"Okay. Who the hell are you and why are you trying to flirt with Laurent?"

"You know, between the two of you I think you've got this customer service thing down," Damen says, turning to Laurent, who rolls his eyes. 

"Nicaise, this is Damen. He's a regular customer, okay? And Auguste's friend. So play nice." 

"And your friend," Damen says. He can feel more than see Laurent tense; the air practically tingles as Laurent takes a second to digest what Damen had said. It takes him another second longer than usual to drag his gaze away from Nicaise and meet Damen's eyes.

"What?" 

"I'm your friend too," Damen repeats. Laurent doesn't look displeased, only confused, and so Damen continues. "If you want to be friends, that is. It does take two."

Another pause, and then "I--"

"I'm hungry!" Nicaise announces, startling Damen once again. He had almost forgotten the kid was still here. "Laurent, you said you'd let me pick dinner tonight once the store was closed. It's closed, and I'm hungry, so lets go!" Nicaise throws a small, calculating look over at Damen. "You can bring your friend if you want."

"I...I'm sure Damen has better things to do than go to whatever terrible restaurant you've chosen to subject me to," Laurent says, but his voice holds a question in it, not dismissal, and Damen shrugs, hoping that simple act conceals his excitement.

"I dunno, I'm pretty hungry and I like terrible restaurants. Where did you have in mind?"

********

Wednesday

(8:32) **So are you, like, going to text him and thank him for inviting you to dinner tonight or what?**

(8:35) What the hell? How did you get my number, Nicaise? And how are you already in my contacts?

(8:36) **I stole your phone while you were in the bathroom, obviously.**

(8:37) It has a password on it!

(8:38) **Please.**

(8:38) **So are you going to text him or not?**

(8:40) Listen, kid, I don't know what you think is happening here but I don't take advice from 13 year olds. 

(8:42) **No YOU listen. I'm going to be 14 in, like, two weeks so shut up. And secondly, I know you like him, and I'm pretty sure he likes you too but he's the most stubborn person ON EARTH and you're definitely going to need to make the first move.**

(8:45) I fail to see how any of this is your business.

(8:46) **Who's Jokaste?**

(8:47) WTF? Did you go through my texts?

(8:48) **Obviously. If you're not going to hit on Laurent for me, you should do it for Nik. I think he's at his limit in regards to the amount of pining he can take from you.**

(8:50) You're evil, do you know that?

(8:51) **I've been told so before, yes.**

(8:52) **So what the hell, Damen? Are you gonna shoot the poor boy a text or what?  
**

(8:54) Okay, NOT like it is any of your business but I promised him I would only contact him for book related purposes. I don't want to cross any boundaries by telling him what a great time I had tonight (present company excluded) since that's not part of our agreement.

(8:58) **Holy shit he's going to fall so hard for you.**

(8:59) **Also, rude.**

(8:59) **Hear me out, though. Laurent NEVER texts anyone. Hardly checks his phone. He'll only check it maybe once a day to see if me or Auguste texted him. It's like he's 80 or something.  
**

(9:00) **I have been watching him for the last twenty minutes and he has checked his phone seven times. SEVEN TIMES, Damen. That's almost more than he looks at it in a whole week. And half of the only people he ever texts are sitting in this room with him right now. So what kind of fucking book emergency do you honestly think he's waiting for, dumbass?**

(9:03) Okay first, language. 

(9:05) Secondly...if I do this and it backfires, I'm throwing you under the bus hardcore, got it?

(9:06) **Got it!**

(9:14) **Ummm holy shit**

(9:16) **IMAGE UPLOADED**

(9:16) **Damen have you EVER seen someone smile like that before.**

(9:17) **Because let me tell you, I've known Laurent for a while and I definitely have never seen him smile like that.**

(9:17) Nicaise, you shouldn't take pictures of people without their permission, it's rude.

(9:18) **Yeah like you didn't just save it to your photo roll.**

(9:18) WTF kid, did you hack my phone?

(9:19) **No, it's called social engineering. I don't have access to your phone anymore but my wording made you think I did, and you basically just admitted that you DID save that picture. You've got it SO bad.**

(9:24) Well this has been great but I'm going to go now before I accidentally give you my social security number, okay? Please don't contact me again.

(9:26) **I guess I probably don't need to tell you that if you hurt him I'll come after you with a knife in the dead of night, do I?**

(9:27) No, thanks, I got it, good night.

(9:28) **You don't need to double check the lock on the front door, I'm not coming after you yet.**

(9:30) You are so creepy, do you know that?

(9:32) **Goodnight uncle Damen**

(9:34) OMG stop it good night good bye forever

*********

Wednesday

(9:11) Hey so I don't have the pretense of talking about books this time but I wanted to let you know that I had a great time tonight and yes, Nicaise's restaurant choice was terrible like you said it would be but I didn't mind and I'd go there again if it meant I got to hang out with you again.

(9:13) _I'm not sure if you'll believe this, but Mama Frankie's Hot Dogs and More isn't my favorite restaurant in the whole world either, so you're probably safe from having to subject yourself to that a second time._

(9:14) Ha ha I did guess as much, that look you gave the waitress when she told us the special for the night was buttered noodles with ketchup was priceless, I wish I could have taken a picture of your face in that moment

(9:15) _That might have been the saddest special I've ever heard in my life, I have no idea how that place is still in business. If I were a billionaire I'd buy it out just so I could shutter it._

(9:15) Oooh if you were rich you'd use your money for evil, I knew it. What would you do next, buy a house in a volcano? Laser beam on the moon?

(9:16) _Why would anyone want to live in a volcano? The AC costs alone would bankrupt me, billionaire or no._

(9:18) It's about power, not practicality. Dominion over nature and all that

(9:18) _Well I'll take my dominion over nature somewhere where it's not so hot, thank you._

(9:18) _An ice castle, maybe._

(9:20) Like Elsa?

(9:22) _I was thinking more Superman and the Fortress of Solitude, but sure._

(9:22) _I do have a lovely singing voice._

(9:23) of course you do :) Is there anything you're not perfect at?

(9:26) _Seriously? You've interacted with me. My interpersonal relationships aren't exactly what anyone would call perfect._

(9:26) I think you could be perfect at it, if you wanted to. You just don't, and that's okay. 

(9:27) _And why wouldn't I want to? You think I like being called a cast iron bitch by customers?_

(9:27) Someone said that to you? Like seriously?

(9:30) _Why is that so hard for you to believe? Some of that bitchiness has been directed at you, you can't be that surprised._

(9:32) Well one, because it's an incredibly rude thing to say to someone who works in customer service. Only cowards do stuff like that because they know that the employees can't fight back

(9:33) And two, I don't think bitchiness is a good word to describe you. You're prickly, sometimes, but you have a wicked sense of humor, you're incredibly smart and I've seen the way you dote on Nicaise and heard the way Auguste talks about you. You're a sweetheart, deep down, I can tell. 

(9:36) And trust me, I know what actual bitchiness looks like. You don't share any similarities with it.

(9:37) _I don't even know what to say to that._

(9:37) You don't have to say anything, it was just an observation. 

(9:41) _You've only known me a little over a week, how would you even know what I'm really like?_

(9:42) I've seen your store. I've seen the kind of books you read. That would give anyone a pretty good impression of you. 

(9:44) _I don't know about 'anyone'. You might be the first.  
_

(9:50) _And just for the record, I'm okay with it._

(9:51) With what?

(9:52) _Just if you want to text me about stuff that isn't books. I don't mind._

(9:52) Good. I like talking to you :) Once a day isn't enough to fit in all of that barbed wit that I crave.

(9:54) _I can't imagine I'm that interesting._

(9:54) Well, I think you are.

(9:56) _I should probably get going, make sure Nicaise goes to bed. I'll see you tomorrow?_

(9:57) Yep, tomorrow.

(9:58) _Well good night then, and thanks again for tonight._

(9:58) Good night, Laurent. I'll see you bright and early.

*********

The picture is taken from across the room, half of it obscured by the corner of the couch that Nicaise is presumably hiding behind. Laurent is sitting on a bench in front of a big window with one leg drawn up against his chest, a book resting precariously on top of his knee with his phone sitting in between the pages like a kid hiding a comic book. The glow from the phone casts his face in a blue light that should probably make him look washed out but instead highlights the delicate planes of his face, making all of his gorgeous features stand out in stark relief against the shadows of the room. He's looking down at his phone with an almost giddy smile, his golden hair framing his face and making him look younger than his twenty two years.

Damen _does_ save the picture to his photo roll, and he uses a heroic amount of restraint and only looks at it twelve more times before he falls asleep with his phone clasped tightly in his hand.

*********

When Damen walks into the store on Friday morning he's surprised to hear voices coming from inside. Turning the corner he sees Laurent talking to one of the other employees; Damen doesn't know him by name, since he usually comes in before the rest of the employees get here, but he recognizes him by sight and the employee nods at him as he enters, looking grateful for the distraction. Laurent only spares him a brief glance before continuing the conversation.

"Did he give any indication of when he was going to be here?" Laurent asks. Damen guesses by Laurent's tone that this conversation has been going on for a while.

"He's not answering his phone. Seriously, he doesn't usually sleep in this late. Maybe he turned his ringer off..." 

"You don't need to make excuses for your suddenly unemployed boyfriend, Jord," Laurent snaps. Damen winces and thinks that maybe today he'll go wander a little farther away from the front of the store, give them some privacy.

"He's just never had a job before--"

"And he's not going to have a job after," Laurent hisses. Damen hears him take a deep breath, and Jord thankfully doesn't try to intervene on behalf of his boyfriend again, which Damen is grateful for. Doing that would have only riled Laurent up more; in the silence of the mostly empty store he's able to calm down a little, think through his options.

"There's only one way out of this that I can see," Laurent says eventually, his anger a little more in check. "We're going to have to close for the weekend while the two of us take care of this situation."

"Close? For the whole weekend? Do you think Auguste would be okay with that?"

"Auguste isn't here," Laurent says, the tension in his voice ratcheting up to almost unbearable tightness again, "and neither is your stupid boyfriend. So no one else can drive me except for you, and since I absolutely have to get there by noon and there's no one else to work the store that means we have to close."

"I can drive," Damen says. The two men swing around, Jord with relief written plainly on his face and Laurent revealing nothing, closely guarded.

"No. Out of the question," Laurent says. "I can't ask a customer to drive me all the way to Marlas. That's over a three hour drive."

"You didn't ask. I offered," Damen says, slightly annoyed. "Plus we're friends, remember? You're in a bind, and I'll help you out, if you let me. That's what friends do."

The tension between the three of them is palpable, and Damen realizes that Jord has been holding his breath only when Laurent eventually relents with a small tip of his head, Jord's whoosh of relieved air pushing out of him loudly in the quiet space. Laurent turns to go gather his things from the back room.

"We owe you, man," Jord says, grasping at Damen's arm, and then, in a whisper, "I hope he doesn't kill you."

"I heard that," Laurent calls out, and Jord blanches. Laurent comes back up to the front and ducks behind the counter and then throws something at Damen, which he catches instinctively. Damen looks down at his hand and sees a key ring, complete with a little DeVere Bookstore key chain.

"I hope you know how to drive a truck," Laurent says, grabbing his bag and ushering him towards the back of the store. "Jord, you'd better sell a million books today, and I don't want to see Aimeric's face for a week, do you understand?" he calls back behind him.

"Yes boss!" comes the enthusiastic reply.

********

"So what's so important that you were willing to close the whole store to go get it?" Damen asks, once they're on the road. He's driving a small cargo van with the De Vere bookstore logo painted on the side, and it's a fairly old little van but it has enough space in the back to transport a small library. Laurent had typed their destination into his phone and Damen saw that they indeed had a good three and a half hour drive ahead of them, just like Laurent had said, and far from being annoyed about having his whole day upended like this he is actually looking forward to the trip. Looking forward to getting to spend it with Laurent.

"There's a man who lives out in Marlas, named Touars. Ever heard of him?" Damen shakes his head, and Laurent shrugs. "I'd be surprised if you had. He was a banker or something boring like that, but he was immensely wealthy and he liked to collect things, including books. Anyway, he died recently and his caretakers are looking to get rid of some of his stuff before they sell the house. If I can make it there before noon, they said they'd let me make an offer on whatever I wanted."

"And there's some good stuff there?" 

"Yes. Touars was interested in selling some of his items a few years ago, and I had a chance to go out and look at some of his stuff. He ultimately didn't want to sell, but those books..." Laurent pauses, as if weighing how much Damen actually wants to hear about this. "If I can get a good offer in, this could make our whole year. I already have buyers lined up for some of it, for the bigger pieces that I looked at last time. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. It's too important to just let slip away." 

"Oh," Damen says, and glances over. Laurent is splayed out in the passenger seat, one leg pulled up to his chest and one sprawled out in front of him, just like in the picture Damen still has saved to his phone. Laurent's looking back at him through half lidded eyes, considering.

"Don't you have to go to work today?" Laurent asks, after a moment has passed. 

Damen shrugs, attention back on the road. "I called in sick. I have a million sick days, figured I should be able to use one to go do something fun."

Laurent snorts. "Yeah. Fun. You know you're going to be stuck with me in a dusty old mansion for at least six hours, right? Not to mention another six hours in this van?"

"There's no part of that sentence I didn't like," Damen says, grinning. Laurent blushes and turns to look out the window.

"I just...don't understand you, sometimes," Laurent says quietly, and Damen's about to ask him what he means when he feels his phone vibrate against his leg. Damen fishes the phone out of his pocket, keeping one hand firmly on the wheel as another message comes through, beeping loudly in the cab of the truck. It's Nik, he can see that at a glance, but he's sending such a flurry of texts that Damen can't tell what they're about without taking his eyes off the road for too long.

"Should we pull over?" Laurent asks, as Damen's eyes flick rapidly between the road and his phone. 

"No, it's just...if it's work stuff, I should probably call him," Damen says, as another text comes in, "but if he's talking about the hot girl at the coffee shop again I don't really want to hear about it." Uncharitable, Damen thinks, after what he had put Nik through this past week and a half, but he's been hearing about this coffee shop girl for way longer than Damen's been whining about Laurent so it's only fair.

"I could read them out to you, if you want," Laurent says casually, and Damen can't stop himself from blushing. There was an exceptionally long and embarrassing text exchange he had with Nik about the color of Laurent's eyes, with Damen explaining to Nik about how they were a clear light blue whenever he was calm but would turn into a darker, richer color whenever he would laugh (along with lots of metaphors about skies and oceans and the like) and Nik kept sending him increasingly violent texts in response until he straight up blocked him for a good two hours, at which point Damen had run his course re:Laurent's eyes and they had reconciled. Still, it wasn't something that he was especially keen on Laurent reading, like, ever. His hesitation must have showed on his face because Laurent sighs.

"I promise I won't read anything you don't want me to," Laurent says, "if that's what you're worried about. Although if your texts with everyone else are as exciting as they are with me, there's not much to titillate."

Damen feels a smile spreading across his face, and he glances over at Laurent again. "Is that what you want?" he asks.

"What?"

"Titillation," Damen says suggestively, enjoying the way Laurent shifts uncomfortably in his seat at the word. "Because I can more than happily oblige, if that's what you want."

"I--I don't--" Laurent stutters, and then turns to glare at him. "Do you want my help or not?"

Another beep comes from his phone, and Damen sighs and unlocks it. "Okay, here. But you promised. Don't read anything else."

"Fine," Laurent says, taking the phone from him. It only takes a second for his eyes to flick up the last three messages. "It's from someone named Nikandros. He wants to know if you're okay, if you're feeling well, if you're in the hospital, if you want him to bring you any chicken noodle soup, and he's wondering why you haven't responded to his previous four messages yet." Laurent looks over at Damen questioningly. "Is he your mom?"

"I told you, I never call in sick," Damen says, "and the last time I did was two years ago because my appendix burst. He's just worried about me. Can you text back, just say I'm fine, not to worry and that I'll text him later?"

Laurent pauses for a second before typing something out, and hits send a moment later. Damen reaches over to take the phone back but before he can it beeps again, and Laurent moves it out of his reach. 

"It's okay, you don't have to read anymore if you told him--"

"He's asking if you're with that blond book boy," Laurent says, turning towards Damen with a wicked smile. "Is that me? Have you been talking to your friends about me?"

Damen feels his face heat up. He was going to kill Nik when he saw him next, even if this hole he was digging right now was of his own making. "What did you say to him?"

"I told him not to worry, you're not actually sick and you're just playing hooky."

"Laurent--"

"Hang on, he's texting something." A second later, the phone dings. "He's asking if this is Laurent. Oooh, so blond book boy does have a name. Well I don't think I should lie to your friend, and it would be pretty rude to ignore him, so..."

Laurent is furiously typing again as Damen curses Alexander Graham Bell, Steve Jobs and every other person whose names he doesn't exactly know but who's ever had anything to do with inventing phones. Laurent looks practically giddy, texting Nikandros, and Damen knows that for his own self preservation he should probably pull over and wrestle his phone away from Laurent's grasp before Nik pays him back for this past week of unadulterated pining Damen has put him through. Unfortunately there's no shoulder where he's driving right now, and the next exit is in three miles, at which point it will probably be far too late for Damen's pride. Still, he wonders how many times the van would flip over if he violently wrenched the wheel right now and if they would be likely to survive, or at the very least come up relatively unscathed. 

Damen suppresses a flinch when the next beep sounds, and he sees Laurent scan over the text quickly before humming either in approval or disapproval, Damen isn't quite sure, at whatever it says. He types something else out and then pauses for a moment, deleting something before spinning the phone around and handing it back to Damen.

"I hope you're having fun," Damen says, a little cross.

"I am," Laurent says, and if he notices Damen's tone he ignores it, "and that's something that I didn't think I'd be saying about today. I was assuming I'd be stuck in here all day with stuffy Aimeric, so as much as I do want to strangle him for ditching work today I am grateful that you're here. And that you offered to drive out all this way."

Damen wasn't expecting Laurent to be so open; it takes him off guard, a little, and he sits up a little straighter in the driver's seat.

"It's no problem," he says, "although I'm not exactly used to driving this much. You're going to have to talk to me the whole time to keep me awake."

When he glances over, Laurent is already grabbing Damen's copy of _Howliday Inn_ out of his bag. 

"I think I can do that," he says, and begins reading.

When they finally get out of the cab for a brief stretch of their legs, Damen checks his phone to see what Nikandros and Laurent had been talking about, only to find that Laurent had deleted everything after Nik's string of worried texts that started this whole thing. With a sigh, he takes one last stretch and gets back into the cab, ready for the rest of the drive.

*******

"Let me do the talking," Laurent says, as they walk towards the front door of the mansion, "and follow my lead. I know you don't know anything about books but the proprietor doesn't need to know that, so please just don't say anything unless I ask you a direct question. Once we're inside and I'm sure that we're not being watched you can go find a corner somewhere and read all day. Or," he says, with a glance towards the pocket where Damen keeps his phone, "you can text your friends and family, let them know I haven't kidnapped you and held you hostage."

"It kind of sounds like I'm a hostage," Damen says with good cheer. He was just happy to be out of the car and have a chance to stretch his legs. Sitting in a fancy library reading books all day didn't exactly sound like a bad time to him, either. "But you don't have to worry about me. And you don't have to be so nervous. You'll get this deal, I know you will."

Laurent looks over at him with an unreadable expression, but before he can open his mouth to respond the door opens and a small, wide man peers out at them suspiciously.

"You here for the books?" he asks, without preamble.

"I am Laurent DeVere, from DeVere books," Laurent says, nodding politely, although Damen can hear the same sort of restrained tension in it from when he was yelling at the man with the wasp hive on his book. "You must be Mr. Guion."

"Yes, come in," he says, waving the two of them in and looking distrustfully at Damen. "And this creature?"

"This is my associate, Damen Bellfluer," Laurent says, putting a gentle hand on Damen's forearm. "A personal friend. He is a professor of French literature from the Sorbonne. Unfortunately doesn't speak a word of English, but I thought he might be useful with the large collection of French works that the late Mr. Touars collected."

Damen very carefully makes sure that he's not looking at Laurent when he replies, in perfect French. " _Do you speak French, Mr. Guion?_ " 

"I, ah...no, sorry," the man sputters, and then looks at Laurent with a little more consideration. "Can you tell him I don't understand?"

" _You'll have to excuse my friend,_ " Damen says, gesturing towards Laurent. " _He's been cursed with an excess of beauty but unfortunately his sense of humor is lacking._ " 

"All right, Mr. Bellfluer, no need to brag about all of your PhDs, he can't understand you. Would you mind, Mr. Guion?" Laurent says, gesturing for him to lead them on with one hand and pinching Damen with the other. "I'd like to get started immediately, if that's acceptable."

Guion agrees, and leads them towards the library. When Guion opens the doors Damen has to school himself not to react; the room is gigantic, easily bigger than his whole apartment, and the bookcases go all the way from the ground to the tops of the twenty foot ceilings. There's a little ladder attached to a bar that runs around all of the bookcases, and once they're alone he knows that he's not going to be able to stop himself from trying to ride it like Belle from _Beauty and the Beast._

"Thank you, Mr. Guion," Laurent says, eyes roaming over the elaborate, beautiful library with a calculated disinterest. "Should I send my associate to get you when I'm done?" 

Guion eyes Damen warily and shakes his head. "No need. I have business to attend to; I'll come fetch you at 5. Take care, Mr. DeVere. Mr. Bellfluer," he says, mangling the name. And just like that he's gone, leaving the two of them alone. 

"I suppose that was fun for you," Damen says. 

Laurent shrugs carelessly, but a smile is playing at the corner of his lips. "Your French is very good." 

"As good as yours, I'm willing to bet," Damen answers. 

Laurent lets out a huff of amusement, and then says "With a name like _Laurent_ ," over-pronouncing the accent on his name, "how could it not be?" Laurent takes a moment to walk around the room, running his fingers lightly over the spines of the books. Eventually, Laurent picks out a book and grabs it from its home on the bookshelf, flips through it quickly and then sets it down on one of the numerous tables scattered throughout the room. 

"I'd better get started. You could probably wander around outside for a while, if you don't want to be cooped up here," Laurent says. "Touars apparently cultivated gardens as well as everything else; they're supposed to be rather nice."

"I'm good," Damen says, grabbing a book at random and settling down in one of the big, comfy chairs. "If I fall asleep, wake me before you leave."

"You're the one driving," Laurent murmurs, but his mind must already be far away because he's flipping through another book, now, and making notes in a small notebook.

The day passes slowly, if pleasantly. Damen tries not to watch Laurent work too much; he's afraid that Laurent will call him out for staring, if he does, but then again Laurent looks as if he's pretty well engrossed in what he's doing. Once he gets tired of the comfy chair he wanders through the library; the bookshelves are arranged so that there are small alcoves, little secret areas, arranged almost like a bookstore that wasn't necessarily interested in making it easy on customers trying to find a particular book. There's some sort of categorization going on--Damen finds one aisle that's full of nothing but art books that seem to weigh fifty pounds each, and one that has something that looks like antique magazines, but within each bookcase he can't discern any sort of order. He tries not to touch anything, aware that any of these books could quite possibly be worth more than his yearly salary, until he comes to a rather small alcove tucked into the back of the room, across from an empty fireplace.

These books seem less fancy than the rest, and they look less expensive and less utterly irreplaceable then the others, and so Damen feels confident enough that he wouldn't be wrecking a priceless piece of art if something terrible were to happen. He grabs one and begins to flip through it--and then almost immediately drops it. There, in quite exquisite and graphic detail, is an illustration of two people fucking.

He should put it back; he knows he should. Peeking around the corner of the little alcove he can see that Laurent is at the opposite end of the room, blonde head buried in a giant and rather delicate looking book, and so Damen quietly flips through a few more pages--yep, more of the same--and then sets it back carefully. Well, perhaps that was a one off, Damen thinks. Maybe the rest aren't like that. It does seem like he should check, though. Just to make sure there aren't more.

So he picks up another one and flips it open, and he tells himself that he's not disappointed when he doesn't find any salacious pictures. What he does find, though, is an 18th century erotica novella written by a woman identified only as Vannes. He places it back carefully and flips through another. This one does have pictures, and as Damen flips through the pages his gaze catches on an illustration of a lithe young man with blonde hair bending down in front of a larger, red haired man, hands placed hesitantly on the larger man's waistband, and Damen is so caught up in the anticipatory energy of the illustration that he doesn't hear the footsteps behind him.

"Anything interesting?" Laurent asks, and Damen gives out an uncharacteristic yelp before slamming the book shut and shoving it back onto the shelf, like he's a fifteen year old kid hiding a playboy at the first knock at the bedroom door. Laurent's looking at him with a wide eyed innocent expression on his face, and he reaches past Damen to grab the book off the shelf, his arm barely brushing Damen's.

"Oh, a Guillaume," he says, opening the cover page and flipping through it casually. "Are you familiar with him?"

"No," Damen replies. He feels like he hasn't had a glass of water in ten years, his throat is so dry. 

"He was fairly popular in his day, about two hundred years ago," Laurent continues, his voice calm and controlled as if he's giving a lecture to a group of bored students, "though I suspect it had more to do with his illustrations than any particular insight on his part." Laurent stops at the same illustration of the blonde man that Damen had opened to and huffs. "I mean really. Do you know what his main conceit was?"

"No," Damen says again. He's probably not capable of anything more complicated than that as long as Laurent has that book open and is standing just inches away from him.

"He put forth this idea that only men were capable of giving men pleasure, and only women capable of giving women pleasure. He said the opposite sex could be taught, but they wouldn't have an instinctual understanding of what a man or woman found pleasurable and therefore wouldn't be as skilled at it as someone of the same sex." Laurent pauses, for a moment, in front of an illustration of a man with an enormous cock in his mouth, before turning the page. "I think he just wanted an excuse to have a lot of different people suck his cock so he could test out this theory, but then again I might just be cynical."

Damen tries to ignore the way Laurent's mouth forms around the word 'cock', and says, "I haven't necessarily found that to be the case."

"What? That I'm cynical? Because I can assure you that is absolutely the case," Laurent says, and it takes Damen a second to realize that he's teasing; he knows that Damen wasn't talking about that.

But Damen continues. "I just mean that I've found in general the pleasure of the experience tends to be more about the kind of person you're with, not what gender they are."

"Oh? And you've been with enough men and women to test this theory out, have you?"

"I don't know about a lot, but yes. Some."

Laurent looks at him with that same gaze he turned on the books when they first walked into the library; calculating, distant, piercing.

"Perhaps you should write your own book," he says finally, a slight smile playing on the corner of his lips. "It seems like you may have something to add to the discourse after all. Don't forget the pictures, though. I know how you like them."

Laurent closes the book gently and slips it back on to the correct shelf, leaning in closer than necessary to put it back to rights, and Damen has to stop himself from reaching out, from grabbing Laurent and telling him that he'll prove it, if he lets him, that he wants to prove it, right now more than anything--

"Hello?" A voice calls out from the other side of the room, and Damen stifles a groan. He's not sure if Guion has just saved him from doing something stupid or stopped him from doing something very, very fun, but Laurent is already across the room without so much as a look backwards. Damen follows, glancing at the clock. 5:00 on the dot. He had forgotten what time it was. 

"Mr. Guion," Laurent says, in the same tone he had been speaking to Damen with just a moment ago, "right on time. I have an offer ready for you."

Guion makes a motion for Laurent to continue, and Laurent hands him a piece of paper with a list of a few hundred books written on it. "These are the books I am interested in. I'm willing to go to thirty for them but that is the ultimate limit of what I can offer you."

It takes Damen a second to understand that Laurent is not talking about thirty dollars but thirty _thousand_ dollars, and when he comes to that realization he coughs, loudly. Both Guion and Laurent turn to look at him, Guion startled and Laurent cross.

" _Pardon_ ," Damen says, in French.

"My client was hoping that you would make an offer on all of the books here," Guion says, after a moment. "They want the house cleaned out as soon as possible so that it may go on the market."

"The entire library?" Laurent says, hiding his disbelief imperfectly. "I am only interested in the books on the list, Mr. Guion, and that _is_ what we discussed on the phone. Taking the entire library would require a considerable effort. Extra trucks, extra hands, extra storage space to house them until they are sold..."

Guion waves a hand, dismissing Laurent's concerns. "Perhaps you misunderstood me when we talked last week. It's everything or nothing, Mr. DeVere. If you can't take everything we will get someone else to do it."

Laurent waits for a beat before responding. "Perhaps that is for the best. For me to even consider taking the entire library...well, as I said, thirty is the maximum that I can do. Once I factor in all of the costs of packing up this entire place..." he looks down, discouraged. "I'm not sure I can spare the extra work it would take. We are a small business, after all, we only have four employees. Perhaps you'll have better luck with one of the bigger bookstores." Laurent's tone becomes extra innocent, extra patronizing, when he says, "Arles Books and More, I am fairly certain, has a large warehouse where they can process merchandise like this. They might be able to take a library this size without any trouble."

Damen's not exactly sure of the particulars but he wonders if Guion knows, yet, that he's been outplayed.

A strange look passes over Guion's face, which probably means that he does, and he coughs nervously into his hand before responding. "I was told you were the best, DeVere, I am not interested in wasting time with having to go to another company. Come now, don't tell me that you can't handle a library of this size. Tell you what. If you can clean this library out by next week I will sell the whole thing for for forty five."

"Forty five? In only a week?" Laurent protests, looking to Damen for assistance. Damen starts to open his mouth, but a look from Laurent shuts it again. "I will have to pay overtime to my workers, maybe even hire some extra laborers, I will have to find a truck..."

"The details of how you go about it are not my concern," Guion sniffs, "only that it gets done. Now come. A week to clean it and forty five for everything is more than generous."

"Thirty five. You must give me some leeway since I will have to pay so many more workers to help."

Guion snorts. "For thirty five I would expect it to be cleaned out by the weekend."

"Done," says Laurent, and holds out his hand. "Thirty five and you will be left with a clean, empty library come Monday morning."

Guion stares at Laurent's outstretched hand in disbelief, as if he doesn't quite follow what just happened, but hesitantly he realizes that Laurent had only accepted _his_ offer, which he couldn't in good practice rescind, and so he eventually reaches out his own hand to shake on the deal. In a smooth, perfect movement Laurent reaches inside of his jacket and pulls out a check, already filled out, for thirty five thousand dollars and hands it to Guion, who stares crossly at Laurent for a moment before plucking it stiffly out of Laurent's hands and turning on his heel and marching out of the room.

After he leaves, Damen turns to Laurent and says flatly in French, " _It will be hard for you to rent a truck on just a few hours notice._ "

Laurent shrugs. " _Luckily for me I rented it two weeks ago then, yes?_ " His French is perfect and flawless, just like Damen imagined it would be, and he wonders idly if it's Laurent's first language.

"And Arles Books and More?" he asks, fairly certain he knows what Laurent's answer will be.

"Offered twenty for the list similar to the one I gave him, and would not take the entire library. Apparently they reported that it was an insurmountable amount of work." Laurent turns a smile on Damen. "So we should get started, don't you think?"

*******

In the end, they pack the hundred or so books from the list that Laurent had handed to Guion, as they were the most valuable and the ones Laurent did not want to let out of his sight, as well as thirty or so more boxes. It barely makes a dent, and the library looks almost as full as it did when they first came in. He hopes Laurent rented a semi truck.

"Should we get some dinner?" Damen asks, starting up the little cargo van. It was nearly 8:00 now, and lunch had only been whatever they could pick up from the last gas station they hit on the way over. Damen was starving, and not looking forward to having to drive home on an empty stomach.

Laurent winces. "We can get some drive thru if you want, but I really do need to get back as soon as possible. If we speed we can make it back by 11, which means I can unload the truck and get home by 12, and then I have to catch a ride with the truck crew at 5 AM tomorrow morning."

"That's ridiculous!" Damen says, starting the van down the expansive tree lined driveway. "Why don't you just stay in a hotel?"

"Well, firstly because I didn't want to share a room with Aimeric and I didn't want to pay for separate rooms," Laurent says.

"You just spent almost forty thousand dollars on books," Damen grumbles. 

"And secondly," ignoring him, "because Aimeric apparently has some sort of frisbee tournament tomorrow. Or something. I didn't ask too many questions because I desperately did not want to know, but the thrust of it was he absolutely had to be home tonight."

"Okay, well, it's not Aimeric that's here anymore," Damen points out. "So why don't you just get a hotel?"

"Oh? Angling to try out some of those moves you learned about in those books today, are you?" Laurent asks. "How much time did you spend over there, with Touars ancient erotica collection?"

Damen rolls his eyes and huffs. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant--look. You're going to have a long day tomorrow. You deserve a good night's sleep, and if you can easily get out of six hours worth of driving by staying at a hotel here, then I don't see why you wouldn't. I can take the van back tonight, I can even unload it if you give me the keys to the store and tell me where to put it, and you get at least eight hours of sleep so you'll be your bright and cheery self tomorrow." Damen looks over and smiles. "Plus it means we can stop for dinner. I'm starving."

Laurent doesn't respond, and after a moment Damen glances over to see if he's even paying attention. "What?" he asks, noting Laurent's expression.

"I just can't figure out," he says, sounding slightly bewildered, "if you're trying to con me or not."

"What, you mean con like a con artist?" Damen asks, incredulous. "What am I gonna do, drop you off at some seedy hotel and steal your books?" Laurent shrugs, like that's exactly what he was thinking, and Damen laughs. "Well luckily for me I know a place that buys old books."

"It's either that or...or you're just the nicest person I've ever met," Laurent says, the words pushing out of him like it's against his will. "I just don't understand."

"And what's so wrong with believing I'm nice?"

"That's not the part I'm having trouble with," Laurent says quietly. Damen doesn't push the issue, just concentrates on making sure he doesn't get lost trying to find the freeway, and after a few minutes of silence Laurent speaks again. 

"You're right, of course. A hotel would be the most prudent option." 

"You don't have to sound so salty about me being right," Damen says, but there's no heat to the statement. "Does that mean we can get dinner?" 

Laurent smiles. "Yeah. Dinner sounds great." 

********

Damen pulls off at the first major area they come to, only about twenty minutes away from the Touars mansion, and pulls into what looks like a decently nice motel. Laurent suggests that Damen find them some food within walking distance while he takes care of the room; he doesn't want to leave the expensive books in the van with Damen ("it's not that I don't trust you," he says, when Damen pouts, "it's just that I would feel more comfortable if I could unload them as soon as possible") but luckily there's a great looking burger place within walking distance, and Damen picks up enough food for three people, wondering if it'll be enough. 

By the time he gets over to the motel with their dinner Laurent has already unloaded the boxes containing the expensive books; it's a simple room, one bed, with the boxes packed neatly in the corner. Laurent makes a face when Damen puts the fast food bag on top of one of the boxes and so Damen moves it to the bedside table while he spreads out on the floor and sees what the complimentary HBO looks like.

"I didn't really imagine that today I'd end up eating greasy burgers in a motel room with you when I came into the store today," Damen says as Laurent grabs some food and plops down next to him.

"It does boggle the mind," Laurent says, making a face when Entourage starts playing on the TV. Damen changes the channel until he lands on a rerun of Jeopardy, which Laurent seems to like. "I can't say that I saw this day going this way either."

"Is it okay, though?"

"Okay?" Laurent says. "It's more than okay. I can't believe I actually got all those books I wanted; I didn't have to ride with Aimeric; I got to--" he stops himself, and looks over at Damen. "I can't believe you agreed to drive me all the way up here."

"Just don't ask me to pick you up from the airport," Damen says, grinning and stealing a fry.

"I wish I needed a ride to the airport. I need a vacation, after this week."

"Well enjoy this, then, your little mini vacation. There's no view and there's nothing fun to do here, so...it's a really bad vacation, I guess, but even bad vacations are still something." 

Laurent laughs and leans back against the wall, stretching his long legs out, and Damen has to stop himself from imagining what they would look like wrapped around his torso, the two of them pushed up against the wall...

"It's fine," Laurent is saying, and with some effort Damen focuses his attention back to the present. "If I went to the beach I'd just burn anyway. The last time Nicaise and Auguste and I went to the beach I spent the next two weeks looking like a boiled lobster. And we were only there for a few hours."

"Oh shit...Nicaise!" Damen says, remembering that Laurent was supposed to be watching Nicaise while Auguste was gone. Honestly the concern wasn't for the boy, who would probably be just fine on his own, but rather for his own skin--if Nicaise found out that Damen was responsible for persuading Laurent to stay in a hotel, he would probably never live it down. Nicaise might actually come and murder him.

"Don't worry," Laurent's smirking at him, like he knew exactly why Damen was fearful, and that it wasn't because of Nicaise's well being. "I knew it would be a long day today. He's staying over at a friend's house."

"He has friends?" Damen grumbles, but settles down.

"He likes you, you know," Laurent says. "He usually doesn't like anyone. I almost jumped out of my skin when he invited you to dinner; he usually hates talking to strangers."

"I guess he inherited his uncle's people skills, huh?" Damen goes for a teasing tone, but he sees Laurent's face shutter at these words, and he regrets it immediately. He didn't think that Laurent was ashamed of his people skills--on the contrary, it seemed like he reveled in it, used it as armor against his vulnerable, real self. But maybe he had miscalculated; maybe he really doesn't understand Laurent as well as he thought.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he says, fighting the urge to reach out. He knows Laurent wouldn't appreciate it in this moment. "I shouldn't have said--"

"No, it's fine," Laurent says, shoving himself up to a more rigid sitting position. He stares at his hands for a moment, running his fingers lightly over his knuckles, and Damen thinks it might just be the first nervous tell he's seen. The air in the room has changed; the light, easy banter from just a moment ago is gone, replaced with this brittle, fragile tension. 

The silence between them has become so profound that Damen is surprised when Laurent starts talking again. "I just--Nicaise isn't actually my nephew by blood, so he can't really inherit anything from me. Auguste adopted him after my parents died, after he--after I--" Laurent takes a deep breath, looking as if he's rallying himself, and Damen wants to tell him to stop, that he doesn't need to do this if he's not ready, but Laurent goes on. "My uncle took me in, after my parents died. That's where I met Nicaise. He was four, maybe five? My uncle told everyone that Nicaise was his godchild and that he had graciously taken him after his parents had died, but who knows if that's true. I would guess it probably isn't. Anyway, Auguste was in college; he was too young to take me in, he couldn't go to college and support an eleven year old, especially a grieving one who I'll freely admit wasn't the most pleasant person to be around."

"Laurent, your parents had just died. I can't imagine any child, especially one as young as you were, would be pleasant. You don't have to apologize for that."

Laurent shrugs but the gesture isn't as careless, isn't as casual as he's trying to make it seem. "Anyway, it turned out that I couldn't take staying with my uncle. Auguste dropped out of college and started working at our family's bookstore to support us, and he took me and Nicaise with him. He gave up everything for the two of us, and I owe him more than I can ever repay."

"It's not a debt to be owed, Laurent. I think you've given him more than you probably know," Damen says softly.

"No," Laurent shakes his head, and the laugh he gives sounds bitter. "No, I'll never be able to repay him for what he did--"

"Listen, Laurent. I have the benefit of being able to see this from the outside, okay? I've known Auguste for years now. I come into that bookstore every day and sometimes we talk about books, sometimes we talk about sports, the weather, TV, whatever. But do you know when Auguste is the happiest?"

"Don't, Damen, you don't have to--"

"Whenever he's talking about you his whole demeanor changes. He goes from this charming, friendly guy to practically incandescent whenever he brings you up. He told me about a book you found at a garage sale for two dollars that you turned around and sold for, like, five hundred bucks in the store--"

"Why would he think you would care about--"

"--and I don't think I've seen people who've won Nobel prizes look as proud as he did, telling me about it. He bragged about that time you lectured a customer who asked for classic literature recommendations and then wouldn't read Bronte because he wanted something "cerebral", not "chick lit", and even though the dude reamed Auguste out for half an hour about how rude you were he was still so, so proud of you. I think--" Damen stops himself. He was about to say how he thinks he had almost half fallen in love with Laurent just from hearing Auguste's stories about him, but this wasn't the place or the time to admit something like that. Besides, the stories Auguste told couldn't hold a candle to actually getting to experience Laurent's brilliance first hand.

"I think," he tries again, "that you don't give yourself enough credit. And I don't think Auguste would be happy if he knew that you thought you owed him anything, because he's not doing it for that reason. He loves you, Laurent. And Nicaise, too. Nicaise would quite literally stab someone for either one of you, don't ask me how I know that." 

Laurent laughs, and it's softer, gentler, without the bitterness from before, and when Damen gathers up the courage to look over at him Laurent is gazing back, his face softer than usual.

"Thank you," he says softly. "I'm not--I don't usually feel the need to dredge up the past like that, I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. That's what friends are for, right?" Damen asks, the question coming out a little more harried than he wanted.

"Right," Laurent repeats. "Friends. Well, I'll take your word for it. I don't have much experience in that arena."

The easy atmosphere between the two of them is back and Damen stands up, stretching his tired muscles. Loading that van with even that small amount of books took more out of him than he thought; as Laurent pushes himself up from the floor next to him in a fluid, easy motion, Damen wonders if if that sort of exertion is standard for him, and if under all that tweed and wool Laurent had the kind of physique that would put those erotica books to shame--

"Well, I should probably get going," Damen says, desperately trying to get his mind off continuing that thought. If he stayed here any longer he would almost definitely try to do something he would regret. "What would you like me to do with the van? I can park it in the back and let Jord know where it is in the morning, or if you want I could always--"

"You should stay," Laurent says suddenly.

"Stay?" Damen asks, carefully. "You mean--"

"I don't mean like that," Laurent says, shooting him a look like he knew exactly what Damen had been thinking a moment ago. "I just mean sleeping. It's dangerous to drive by yourself at night, especially after such a long day. You're exhausted, and you won't have anyone to keep you awake in the van. You should stay," Laurent says again, "if you want."

"All right," Damen says. "Do you want me to sleep on the floor?"

"Don't think you can keep your hands to yourself?"

"I can," Damen says, because he knows it'll be a pretty heroic effort on his part to do so, "I'm just not sure how comfortable you are with sharing a bed. I am rather large."

Laurent snorts, at this, but doesn't respond, and instead starts picking up the pieces of their dinner and throws them away. The room smells like fried food layered over the slight tang of laundry detergent, and Damen wonders if he's taking his life in his own hands by agreeing to this. Because he already knows he's agreeing to this. 

"I trust you," Laurent says, and Damen knows in that moment that he'll do whatever he needs to do to keep that trust, and they get ready for bed. 

******

The room is dark, except for the blinking red light coming from the smoke detector on the ceiling, and the only sounds are the faint car noises coming from outside the window and Laurent's breathing. He's not asleep, judging by the pace of it, and Damen wonders if Laurent is having as much trouble with their closeness as he is. Damen's wearing a t-shirt and his boxers-- as much as he didn't want to make Laurent uncomfortable by sleeping naked like he usually does, sleeping in jeans was completely out of the question, he's not a masochist-- and he's both too hot and too cold and doing everything in his power to not think about how he could reach out and touch Laurent's bare skin right now. He thinks about his own breathing, as much as he's able to, and tries to convince his body that he's ready to go to sleep.

"Tell me," Laurent says, into the stillness, "the person who acquainted you with real bitchiness, and not my off brand variety. Who are they?" 

It takes Damen a second to understand what Laurent is asking, but when he does he sighs. He could just tell Laurent to go to sleep, or that he doesn't really want to rehash his old wounds, but Laurent had opened himself up earlier and talked about his past and Damen finds that he wants to share something of his past as well.

"My sister-in-law," Damen says. "She's the real deal, the tear your heart out and eat it in front of you kind of creature. Might as well lump my brother in there too, while we're at it." He can feel Laurent's eyes on him, but he doesn't move his gaze from the red light blinking on the smoke alarm. "Jokaste--my sister-in-law, now--she and I dated for two years. We had plans to move in together, eventually, we talked about marriage, kids, all sorts of that kind of thing. Then she goes out for a weekend with her girl friends, out to Vegas, and when she comes back..." 

"She came back as your sister in law? Not really," Laurent says, and Damen can feel the bed dip as he shifts around. "Did your brother know you were dating when he married her?"

"That's why he's the other bitch. Who knows what she told him to get him to the altar, but he sat across from us at our family dinner the week before, and all the years before that, all smiles and charm."

"I bet that makes family dinners pretty awkward now."

Damen snorts. "I wouldn't know. I haven't been over there since it happened; my parents are technically taking my side, but now that Jokaste is pregnant they don't want to alienate their first grandchild."

Laurent lets out disbelieving laugh. "Is that why she married him? Because she was pregnant?"

"No, they've been married for five months now and she's only two months along. Thank god. Like this farce needed to be any more complicated. I'll need to figure out something eventually, though. I can't stay away forever." 

They're both silent for a moment, and Damen thinks that maybe Laurent's had enough of his family drama for one night when he asks, "Do you still love her?"

"No," Damen replies instantly. He doesn't love her, not anymore. When he had heard what she did, after she had come to him in those days following that Vegas trip and had sat him down, her eyes wide and full of tears--not enough tears to mess up her mascara, just enough to convey her sadness--and had explained in that smoky voice of hers that she was sorry, so sorry, that Damen deserved better, that she was the worst kind of girlfriend (ex-girlfriend, Damen remembers thinking at the time), it was like a door had shut inside of him, closing that part of him off from her. It didn't tear or rip or gnash at him like he would have expected; it simply closed, and Jokaste must have sensed something of the sort because eventually she had stopped talking and given him a level, calculating look and had walked up and left without saying another word.

His brother, on the other hand...Damen could still feel the embers of anger inside of him when he thought about his brother. But that was a story for another day. 

"No, I'm not in love with her. We've talked on the phone since then; I forgave her, for what it's worth, but I just...I'm not ready to see Kastor yet. And it's hard going home, seeing where we grew up, remembering all the places we used to play as kids, and knowing that he did something so calculated to hurt me in the worst possible way. The first time I've been over there since it happened was just last week, to--" he stops.

"To what?" Laurent asks, softly.

Damen huffs. "It was to find that book to lend you. I knew it was in my parent's attic somewhere, and I really wanted to get it for you and I just realized right now that's the first time I've been over there since this all happened."

They're both silent, for a moment, and Laurent's breathing so softly that Damen thinks he might have fallen asleep--but then he feels the feather light touch of Laurent's fingers on his arm. It's not a provocative touch but a comforting one, something to ground Damen back to reality, something he can focus on. It's only for a second but Damen feels the impact of the gesture reverberate through him, like soothing aloe over a burn. The blinking light above him flashes on relentlessly, and Damen stares so hard at it that he thinks he can hear it.

After a moment, Laurent speaks into the silence again. "Do you think Elvis married them?" 

Damen barks out a laugh before he can stop himself, and this time he does turn to Laurent, who's on his side, facing towards Damen with a smirk on his face. 

"Elvis?" Damen says. "Really?"

"It just makes sense, is all," he says, "that two people that tacky must've had an overweight impersonator in a bedazzled jumpsuit marry them." 

"I hope you're right. Jokaste would have hated that more than anything. And Kastor...well, he probably would have enjoyed it, which would have made her even angrier."

"I'll make sure to ask her," Laurent says, his voice low with sleepiness, "if I ever get to meet her."

Damen thinks about the two of them meeting. At his parents house, maybe. His mom would love Laurent immediately, he knows, and while his dad would take a little more time--he's more of a traditional kind of patriarch, and Laurent defies all kinds of tradition--they would end up with an unlikely truce by the end of the first day, he's sure of it. Laurent would be by his side, willing to go to battle for him against the fearsome Jokaste and the treacherous Kastor, and the thought of having Laurent there as an ally, as a friend, as a...well, whatever they may be to each other, it makes him happier than he probably has any right to be. He steals another glance at Laurent next to him, whose eyes are already closed, his breathing evening out into the cadences of sleep, and Damen smiles.

"Good night, Laurent," he whispers.

"G'night, Damen," comes the mumbled reply.

*******

Saturday

(7:30) _Finally finished unloading the truck. You didn't have to stay and help, but thanks to you we got finished way earlier than I thought._

(7:32) I kind of did have to, though. Was I supposed to drive back by myself and not get to hear you read me the end of my book?

(7:37) _That's a lot of work to have to do just to hear me narrate a kids book._

(7:40) Worth it. You do the best voices. Plus it's Saturday, so I didn't have to play hooky today. Did you like the book?

(7:41) _I did, it was really cute and funny. And had a happy ending, like you promised. If you ever get tired of making incredible buildings you can always come work at the bookstore, you give good recommendations._

(7:42) Always nice to have options! Also, how do you know I make incredible buildings? I could be making ugly parking lots or something

(7:45) _Are you going to make me admit I did some light stalking? I didn't realize you owned the entire Akielos Construction Company._

(7:46) Maybe it's just a weird coincidence I share the same last name as the company I work for 

(7:48) _Your website has a big picture of your face on it, dummy._

(7:49) Oh yeah, I forgot Nik made me do that

(7:50) _I never realized that your company was responsible for the Modern Art Museum downtown. That place is incredible; I drag Nicaise there at least twice a year._

(7:51) Oh man you should let me know when you're going next time, I can point out all the places where we buried dead bodies in the cement

(7:55) _?!?!_

(7:58) Okay well not really, but Nicaise doesn't need to know that. It'll freak him out.

(8:01) _Well if you're going to be traumatizing my nephew then I'll certainly make sure to bring you along._

(8:03) It's only fair. He's a fairly traumatizing force himself.

(8:03) _Yes, I'm very proud of him._

(8:05) You should be. That doesn't mean he doesn't scare the shit out of me. :)

(8:07) _That's probably an appropriate reaction to anyone in our family, honestly._

_************_

Sunday

(3:10) **You know my birthday is next week**

(3:12) Yeah, I remember. You're turning 36, right?

(3:15) **Hilarious. Anyway, I'm having a party on Saturday at Mama Frankie's. I want a Nintendo Switch.**

(3:16) Hang on one second.

(3:18) HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

(3:18) Sorry, had to get that out of my system. 

(3:20) **You think you're funny, don't you?**

(3:22) I don't even get an invitation and you're asking me to buy you a Switch?

(3:23) **I just invited you, dumbass**

(3:25) No, like an invitation in the mail. Did you send them out? Were they Transformers? My Little Pony? Pokemon?

(3:26) **This isn't 1987 grandpa, no one mails invitations anymore.**

(3:26) **I'm gonna tell you why you're gonna get me a Switch though, okay?**

(3:28) shit this'll be good

(3:28) no wait actually I'm kind of scared

(3:30) **I'm friends with Aimeric, did you know that?**

(3:31) no

(3:31) so what?

(3:33) **SO I knew Aimeric was supposed to drive Laurent to that book thing, and I knew that there was actually someone who liked Laurent enough to WANT to be stuck in a car with him for six hours, and I knew that person went into the bookstore every morning and would be there when Aimeric called out.**

(3:34) **Do you want to know why Aimeric called out?**

(3:36) oh god

(3:37) **Because I bribed him, Damen. It wasn't too hard, he didn't want to go with Laurent any more than Laurent wanted to go with him. Plus he's honestly pretty lazy. It didn't take much. And I think that you profited pretty well from that excursion, didn't you?**

(3:38) **I heard you two spent the night together**

(3:40) Okay that's REALLY none of your business, also nothing happened, also I feel like talking to you about this might actually be illegal

(3:42) **Oh nothing happened? Then why would it be illegal to talk about if nothing happened?  
**

(3:43) please stop asking me questions I don't want to incriminate myself any further

(3:45) I **t's fine you've already told me everything I wanted to know**

(3:46) uggggghhhh

(3:50) **My original point still stands. Next Saturday. 7:00. Mama Frankie's. Bring a gift.**

(3:51) Oh my god FINE of course I'll be there

(3:52) **I have a feeling we're going to be seeing a lot more of each other, uncle Damen**

(3:53) Honestly I hope you're right

(3:54) **Ugh don't get soft on me now**

(4:02) **FINE I guess I'm happy I get to see you more too**

(4:02) **only because it'll mean more christmas presents**

(4:04) I knew you were a sweetheart, deep down

(4:05) like way, way deep down

(4:07) **Just don't tell anyone or I swear to god I will stab you**

(4:08) :)

(4:08) 🔪

******

(6:15) _Are you busy?_

(6:18) Nope, just watching the game. What's up?

(6:18) _Are you at home?_

(6:19) Yep

(6:19) _Can I come over?_

(6:21) Yeah, definitely! I'll send you my address.

(6:21) _All right. See you in a little bit._

******

To say that Damen is nervous about Laurent coming over to visit him is an understatement. He has no idea how long it will take Laurent to get to his apartment, but he flies around his small space with the force of a tornado, cleaning everything as fast and as much as he can. He isn't a slob or anything, but he wants to make a good first impression. Plus it distracts him from thinking about why Laurent would want to come over; maybe he wants to give him another book, or return the copy of _Howliday Inn_ that he still had, or maybe he just wants to talk. Like friends do. Damen firmly refuses to entertain any other notions than that, and after a few minutes he has to give up on trying to predict what Laurent will do entirely so he doesn't make himself crazy.

A knock sounds on his door about 30 minutes later, and Damen takes one more look around his place to make sure everything looks good before opening the door. Laurent is standing there, perfectly poised and beautiful like he always is, and Damen feels his heart constrict tightly in his chest. 

"Come on in," he says, but Laurent's already in and walking around like he's been there a million times already. He goes toward the big windows facing the eastern side of the apartment, the main draw to the place and the first thing anyone ever notices, but he turns after only a moment and goes toward the bookcases lining the other side of the room, skimming his fingers along the spines of the books there. He pauses for a second in front of the children's book that Damen had displayed, the one without any pictures that Damen had bought last week, and for some reason having Laurent see that is too much, too intimate, and Damen blushes. 

"You've got a lovely view" Laurent says, and Damen can tell that for all of his outward calmness that he's holding himself together with a thread. Damen knows he's just making small talk, though, and tries to respond in kind.

"Thanks. I like...windows. I like the view." 

Laurent smiles at him, then, and Damen feels his knees go weak. Maybe he's projecting; maybe _he's_ the one being held together by a thread, because right now it's entirely possible that Laurent might just break him with a word, or a glance.

"I brought you your book back," Laurent says, handing him the familiar copy. Damen hadn't even noticed he was carrying it, when he walked in; he looks at it in slight confusion for a second before reaching out to take it.

"You could have just given this to me Monday morning."

"I know. I also came over because I wanted to tell you in person that I don't feel indebted to you, for what you did for me this weekend. I'm thankful, of course, but I don't feel like I owe you anything for it."

"Good?" Damen answers, unsure as to where this train of thought is coming from. Laurent's tone isn't hostile, necessarily, but this definitely wasn't within the realm of anything Damen felt needed to be said out loud. "I didn't do it so that you would feel that way. That would be weird."

"Good," Laurent says, walking towards him with an expectant gleam in his eyes, "because I don't want you to think that I'm doing this for any other reason except that I really, really want to."

And before Damen can muster up any sort of response to this, Laurent takes Damen's head in his hands and brings it down so he can kiss him, and then Damen can't think of anything, anymore, except the feeling of Laurent's mouth against his own. For all of his forwardness right now Laurent is kissing Damen lightly, tentatively, like he's afraid Damen's going to shatter if he pushes any harder. He might be right, honestly, although probably not in the way he thinks. 

"Good," Damen breathes, when Laurent breaks away, although he's not really sure what he's responding to in that moment. All he can think about is the feel of Laurent pressed up against him, the way Laurent isn't pulling away from him but is leaning closer, closer. This time Damen is the one who leans down to kiss him and this time he doesn't hold anything back; far from the light and tentative thing that Laurent had just given him, this one is hungry and it's fierce and he can feel Laurent pushing up on his toes so he can press harder against him and Damen thinks that he might actually explode from how happy he is right now. After a moment they break apart again and Laurent pushes fully away from him, taking a step backwards so he's out of reach. His hair is mussed from where Damen's hands had just been, his lips slightly swollen. _I did that,_ is the only thing Damen's brain is capable of thinking right now. 

"Do you know who John Waters is?" Laurent asks him, and Damen blinks at the question.

"The...the movie guy?" Damen asks. He's lucky his brain can form any fucking words at all right now, let alone make any sort of useful connections, but apparently that description is good enough for Laurent because he nods.

"He has this quote that's always stuck with me. 'If you go home with somebody and they don't have books, don't fuck them'. I couldn't help but notice that you've got a fairly decent collection here."

"And if I didn't?" Damen says, reaching out to drag Laurent closer so that he can touch him again, he can't believe that they're not touching right now, all the time, "Would you have turned around and gone straight home?"

"Why do you think I brought your book back?" Laurent asks lazily. Damen can't do anything except groan in response to this and now he's pushing Laurent backwards, gently, until Laurent is up against the bookcase, spine against spine, and he can't resist the urge to reach in and just inhale the smell of him--fresh, clean, a whiff of leather--and then Damen's kissing gently, gently down his neck and Laurent arches into him, sighing contentedly, rubbing lazy circles on his back.

"I caught you staring at me, you know," Laurent says as Damen slips a hand underneath his shirt.

"Which time?" he murmurs close to Laurent's ear.

"Shameless," Laurent chides gently, pushing Damen back so that he can look up at him. "In the library. You couldn't keep your eyes off of me all day long. You were very distracting."

Damen huffs. "On a scale of 1 to 10--"

"Stop," Laurent laughs, bringing Damen in closer and burying his head in his shoulder, his voice muffled. "Tell me what you were thinking. When you were watching me."

"I doubt I was thinking," Damen says, reaching down to tuck a piece of Laurent's hair behind his ear. "Maybe just about how brilliant you looked. How gracefully you moved," he runs a light touch down Laurent's arm, enjoying the way he shivers at the contact, "how you looked like you were born to live in a mansion like that, surrounded by wealth and opulence. Just things like that. Until--" he stops, and ducks his head and lets out a low laugh.

"Until what?"

"Until you found me reading that book," Damen answers. "Then all I could think about was how much I wanted to suck your cock."

"Really? Not the other way around? You did stare at that picture of the blonde on his knees for quite a while. The resemblance between the two of us was uncanny."

"No, it wasn't like that," Damen says, and Laurent quirks an eyebrow at him. "You don't have to believe me, but I'm serious. All I could think about right then was how much I wanted to show you how good it could be. I wanted to give you..." Damen stops, feeling the change in the tension around them. Laurent's tone had been teasing, light, but Damen had started to reveal too much; he hadn't realized that he was going so far so fast. 

"Give me what?" Laurent prompts, his voice soft.

But there's no going back now. He's not even sure if he wants to. "Everything," Damen says, the admission raw and open, and he meets Laurent's eyes without flinching. "I want to give you everything, Laurent."

Laurent's eyes go wide and he breaks their gaze, and Damen feels the weight of an answer in that motion. He backs up to give Laurent a little more space, a little more room to breathe, but Laurent stops him from going too far by tightening his grip on his forearm.

"'Everything' is a lot to give to someone you've only known for a few weeks," Laurent says finally.

"It is," Damen says, "and I understand if you want to wait. Hell, I'd understand if you want to stop."

Laurent lets out a disbelieving huff of air. "You mean that if I said I wanted to leave right now you would just let me," he says, and he sounds mystified, like he's grappling with the concept. "Without any fight. When I'm the one who came over here and asked you to fuck me."

"Of course I would," Damen says, and now it's his turn to be confused. "It's not any fun unless we both want this."

Laurent pushes Damen away with no small amount of force and stalks over to the other side of the room. Damen, realizing that whatever crisis Laurent is working through right now might take a while, goes over to sit on the sofa. Laurent is pacing in front of the windows and Damen follows the motion with his eyes, unable to look away. Damen thinks about the last time he went to the zoo and saw the black panther pacing in his cage; the panther had an easy, graceful, dangerous energy, and he sees that same kind of energy reflected in Laurent right now. At the zoo a chain link fence separated him from certain death. Here, there's no fence to protect him. When Laurent stops suddenly and turns to stare at him Damen can feel the hairs on the back of his neck raise up, and thinks--a predator who has just sighted his prey.

"How are you so..." Laurent says, his voice strung taught with tension, "you're just so..."

"Handsome?" Damen ventures.

Laurent's eyes narrow, blue slits of pure venom.

"Considerate," he spits out finally. "You're just so...considerate."

Damen snorts. "Being decent is hardly considerate. It's just...being a basic human."

"Shut up," Laurent says, and without any preamble he walks over and climbs into Damen's lap. This time there's a different sort of desperation to the way Laurent kisses him, like a last gasp of air before plunging into cold water, and Damen can't spare enough mental energy to determine if this is Laurent needing to prove something to himself or if he actually, truly wants this, but then he's moving, rolling his hips, grinding down on Damen's lap and he realizes that he's not nearly as considerate as Laurent seems to think he is because he's willing to take whatever Laurent is willing give him in this moment. They stay tangled together like this for another few seconds, an eternity, until Damen's ready to burst, and Laurent must sense that because he pulls back and nods.

"You've shown me your giant windows and your big library," Laurent says, leaning back a little. "Don't you think you should show me your bedroom?"

"That sounds like the start to a corny porno," Damen laughs, enjoying the way Laurent blushes.

"We could just stay here and watch a movie, if I'm too corny for you," Laurent says, annoyed. "Is that John Wick? I haven't seen it yet."

"Laurent," Damen groans, and Laurent snickers and untangles himself, taking Damen's hand and helping him off the couch. Damen follows obediently, Laurent's hand warm in his own, and lets Laurent lead him to his own bedroom. It's a simple room; he just needs it for sleeping and so that's what the main focus is, and he's not one to clutter up a space with pointless knick knacks. Laurent takes it all in and then jumps on the bed, bouncing slightly. He pats the space next to him like he's inviting a dog to jump up, and Damen rolls his eyes in an exaggerating motion before climbing in next to him. Laurent's already got his hands underneath his shirt, fingers slightly cold against the fever bright flush of Damen's skin and then they're kissing again and Laurent's clever fingers are divesting him of his clothes, his shirt, his pants, and soon Damen's completely undressed. Damen sits back a little so that he can return the favor and Laurent stretches out underneath him, not moving a muscle to help while Damen fumbles with his belt and his overly complicated pants. 

"Eager, are we?" Laurent asks when Damen slides a palm down newly exposed thighs. He moves up to where Laurent is hot and hard and wraps a hand around him; Laurent bucks, under the sudden pressure, and lets out a strangled hiss as Damen thumbs across the top of him.

"Very eager," Damen confirms, and then reaches down and puts his mouth to better use. He's been thinking about this since he saw that cursed book, about what Laurent would look like, when Damen was sucking him off, if he'd like it as much as Damen would, if he'd gasp and moan and writhe in pleasure. He doesn't do any of that, of course, and Damen knew in the back of his mind that he wouldn't be like that, but what he _is_ like is perfect--Laurent's soft gasps, the moans that rise up to his lips and are swallowed back down, the way he runs his fingers through Damen's hair in a motion that's partly sweet, mostly controlling and almost definitely unconscious, are all exactly like Laurent and just so _perfect_. 

"Stop," Laurent says suddenly, and he does, sitting back to give him space. Laurent's breathing heavily and his eyes are wide, but the panic from earlier isn't back; Laurent's still as turned on as he had been a moment ago, his eyes dark and deep as the ocean, and he sits up. In one smooth motion he yanks off his shirt, which was still on and had ridden up his chest, and then lays back down, pulling Damen down with him.

"If you kept on doing that, this would have been over too soon," he whispers, running his hands up and down Damen's forearms, unable to stop touching him, "and I want it. I want what you promised." _Everything_ , Damen had said. 

Damen doesn't have the wherewithal to form any sort of coherent response to that, and so he reaches down and kisses Laurent hungrily, greedily. Laurent isn't like anyone he's ever been with before and it's almost painful, how much he wants him. Damen wants to impale himself on all of Laurent's sharp edges, wants to tease out and find all of his hidden softness and sink into its depths. Laurent is opening up underneath him and Damen wants to take all of him, wants to claim him for himself, and in this moment Laurent is allowing it, is staking his own claim on Damen and Damen is okay with allowing that as well. It doesn't really matter, after all; Damen will never be the same again, not after knowing what it's like, what Laurent's like when he lets his guard down like this, when he lets Damen into those secret places that Damen has a feeling no one has been allowed in to before.

Damen is picking up his final rhythm now and Laurent is matching him, electric and brilliant with the way Damen is moving inside of him and as they both get closer to the edge, nearer to the precipice that Damen is sending them towards, that Laurent pushing them to, and Laurent is unraveling and Damen hears his name spilling from Laurent's lips in a chant, a prayer, an invocation, and then all he sees are stars, and then blackness, and the golden beacon of Laurent next to him, guiding him home. 

********

Monday morning

(7:15) I didn't see you leave this morning, you should have woken me up

(7:23) _I wanted to get home and take a shower before work, and you looked like you needed the rest._

(7:23) Maybe true, but I would have woken up if it meant I got to see you one more time

(7:24) I have to work on site today, so I won't be able to go by the store this morning

(7:25) Can I call you, later?

(7:40) _Auguste and I are pretty busy taking care of the Touars collection. Maybe some other time._

(7:41) Okay. Do you want me to bring you anything? I can drop off some takeout if you guys want, I know this great place that's right around the corner

(7:50) _No, we'll be okay. I'll see you around._

(8:03) Okay

*********

Monday afternoon

(5:08) Hey Nik, you know the other day when Laurent had my phone and he was texting you?

(5:10) _ **Yeah, when you were playing hooky**_

(5:11) Hey you took off four days in October for "food poisoning" yet somehow logged 70 hours in the new rome total war game that coincidentally just came out a few days prior to that

(5:12) so lets not be pedantic

(5:17) _**what do you want Damen**_

(5:17) what did he say to you?

(5:18) _**it was your phone, just go up and read it**_

(5:20) he deleted it

(5:21) _ **if he deleted it he must not have wanted you to see it**_

(5:22) I guessed that, sherlock

(5:23) _**okay well if he doesn't want you to see it I'll send you a screenshot**_

(5:23) _**hang on**_

_**__________________________** _

_**Is this Laurent?** _

Has he talked to you about me?

_**almost exclusively, and I'm going to tell you this about him, so pay attention.** _

_**Damen is the best man I've ever known and if you treat him badly you will have an enemy in me, do you understand? If you're not feeling it with him you need to back off right now because he's already falling hard for you. He wears his heart on his sleeve and I won't let you crush it just because you think it'll be fun.** _

I understand.

_**And?** _

And what? I don't need to explain myself to you.

_**oh god you're exactly his type. are you going to back off?** _

No.

_**bc I'm pushing you or bc you have feelings for him?** _

Take your pick. I will say though I'm not generally known as a fun person, so you shouldn't worry so much.

_**I think we understand each other.** _

I think we do too.

__________________________

(5:42) _**Did you get it?**_

(6:10) Yeah. Thanks, man. I love you.

(6:11) _**Love you too**_

*******

Laurent isn't sure what had compelled him to go over to Damen's apartment on Sunday--his fingers had typed all those questions in a blur, asking if Damen was home and if he could come over, and he had pressed send on all of them before he could let himself think about what a bad idea it was--and after he was there, after they had kissed, after Damen had touched him so gently, like he was a fragile piece of porcelain and liable to break under those giant, generous hands, he hadn't given himself a moment to think about whether or not it was a good idea, had only been able to concentrate on the way his entire nervous system felt like it was on fire, how each piece of him lit up like a beacon wherever Damen touched him, how full and stretched and wonderful he felt. And it wasn't just the physical aspects of it that had been good, though that was something beyond what Laurent had ever experienced or had ever hoped to experience, but their conversation, their banter, had all felt so _right_ , and Laurent didn't have time to think about how he had probably messed everything up between them until afterwards.

Damen had wanted him from the beginning. Laurent was used to that, was used to people looking at him with that avaricious gleam in their eye, calculating how much it would take before he would be underneath them, writhing and pliant and begging for more; usually one conversation with him, or sometimes even a word, was enough to disabuse most people of the idea that putting up with him would be worth it, or that someone like him was ever capable of begging for anything. But Damen--beautiful, infuriating, considerate Damen--hadn't given up at one conversation, or even two or three. Their conversations weren't transactions to be paid; sometimes it seemed like he actually _enjoyed_ talking to Laurent, and Laurent had let himself begin to feel that maybe, _maybe_ this was someone who was in it for more than just the pleasure of the hunt.

Which meant that Laurent couldn't do anything except screw everything up, of course.

 _You're just a cock hungry slut_ , his uncle's voice says in his head. _He only wanted one thing from you, the only thing you're good for, and you just couldn't help yourself, could you?_

Laurent stops, closes his eyes. Reaching out to the desk in front of him he touches the book he knows is sitting there, runs his fingers against the spine, the pages, the text inlaid on the front cover, the bumped corner on the right hand side. He catalogues everything he's feeling underneath his fingers, and then, when his breathing returns to normal, he opens his eyes and catalogues all of the colors, the tiny stain shaped like a leaf in the top left hand corner, the way the green goes from a dark emerald color to a forest green color on the spine, and soon his heartbeat slows down and he's back under control of himself, of his thoughts. He needs to go home. He's been throwing himself into his work for the last two days, letting the deluge of books take up all of his time and stop him from thinking about Damen. But he is tired. He wishes Nicaise was still staying with him; the surly teenager always managed to get Laurent out of his moods, if only because Laurent had to be on such high alert to make sure Nicaise didn't commit any atrocities.

He glances up at the clock, sees that it's almost 6. Well, it was time to head home anyway. He didn't need to stay until 11:00 again, like he had yesterday, and he goes downstairs to see if Auguste needs help closing the registers. As he makes his way down the creaky steps that separate his office from the rest of the store he hears the quiet murmur of voices and he rolls his eyes. Auguste probably had a customer who was talking his ear off and his brother was probably just letting them, as always, instead of finishing up his closing duties, like always. Laurent hops down the last step and calls out to his brother--

\--and Damen and Auguste both turn at his voice, smiles on both of their faces as they see him. Laurent is arrested at the sight of it--his brother, who he loves more than anything in the world, and Damen, who he's slowly coming to realize means more to him than he's quite ready to admit--staring back at him like he's just the greatest goddamn thing on earth. He feels something hard and dark grip him, deep down, and he carefully pushes it aside before cocking an eyebrow at Auguste.

"We were just talking about you," Auguste says. "Damen was telling me about what a great salesman you were, while I was gone." Auguste isn't as practiced as Laurent in the art of controlling the tenor of his voice, and disbelief shines through his words like a spotlight.

"He's lying," Laurent says shortly. "I was an enormous ass to him the whole time you were gone so that he would tell you how terrible I was and then you'd never ask me to do that again, but he knows it would make me angrier to tell you that I was decent."

"I didn't lie," Damen says, and he's annoyed now, which pleases the reptilian part of Laurent's brain. 

Auguste opens his mouth to say something, but then shrugs and nods. "Actually, that makes a lot more sense."

"Shouldn't we be closing up?" Laurent asks him. He's very carefully ignoring Damen, who's motivation for coming here at this time of day he can hardly even begin to guess at. He probably thought Laurent would have left by now and just wanted to see Auguste after his vacation.

"I am, you dork. Why don't you keep Damen company while I close the registers? I'll only be a minute." 

"I can't," Laurent says sharply. "I have work to do as well, you know."

"The Touars books aren't going anywhere," Auguste says, rolling his eyes.

"And they won't ever go anywhere if I'm not able to find buyers for them," Laurent snaps. He hates how petulant he sounds, but fighting with his older brother like this is bound to make him sound like a surly teenager. "I have work to do."

He turns on his heel and climbs back up to his office; once he's inside, he's able to take a deep breath and think. He hadn't expected Damen to be here, that must be why he was so unnerved right now. He had been pretty cold, in the few text messages Damen had sent since...that night, and he figured Damen would've gotten the hint. He hadn't expected that seeing Damen again would affect him like it did--a sharp pang in his heart, memories of Damen laughing at something rude Laurent had said to him, the memory of how his body had looked poised above him, or taking Laurent into his mouth---

Laurent goes over to his desk and lays his head on his hands. He is in too deep, and he knows it. He hears the door to his office open and he groans.

"Leave me alone, Gus. I don't want to talk about it."

"I have it on pretty good authority that he hates that name," Damen says, and Laurent forces himself not to react, stifles the flinch that threatens to wrack through his entire body. After a second, when he's back in control of himself, he sighs dramatically and stands up, hands braced on his desk. It's bad enough Damen always has the height advantage on him; might as well not make it worse by sitting.

"What do you want?" he asks.

Damen frowns. "I just want to talk to you. You haven't answered my texts, calls, anything. Are you okay? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Of course he would think it was something he did, and not something Laurent was doing. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says. "You just...you got what you wanted, didn't you? Why are you still here?"

Damen's eyes narrow. Laurent's not sure he's ever seen Damen mad before, like really mad, and a cruel part of him takes pleasure in the fact that he's able to call this emotion out of him now. But his voice is quiet and soft when he speaks again.

"And what is it you think I want?"

"To fuck me," Laurent says, deliberately crude. Damen flinches, and Laurent takes pleasure out of that, too.

" _You_ approached _me_ ," Damen says, and Laurent looks away so that he won't be able to see the flush on his face, "but if you think that's all I want, you're wrong."

"Oh? What else do you want, then? Round two? Do you want to turn me around right here and take me up against these books?"

"Would you like that?" asks Damen softly. Laurent realizes he's miscalculated; now he can't think about anything except Damen doing exactly that, and he rigidly stamps down his growing arousal. In that moment Laurent hates him, hates how easily he's able to see through all of his carefully crafted defenses, and he wishes he could lash out, could strike him; but that would be an admission of its own kind, and so he satisfies himself with giving Damen one of his bitchiest looks instead.

"What I want," Damen says, not moving from the opposite side of the room, "is just you. Infuriating, unpredictable, intelligent, ruthless, gorgeous you. I told you that already. I thought I showed you that too. I want to give you everything, Laurent, but I also want everything from you. Every bitchy comment. Every snide remark, every hesitation, every time you're angry at me or the world or whatever, I want it." 

Damen hasn't moved this entire time but he moves now, Laurent's body language having communicated something Laurent himself wasn't even aware of, and he pins Laurent down with his gaze, stopping just a few inches away from him. He's angled himself so that Laurent can slip out easily, if he wants, and even as Laurent curses him for being so thoughtful he realizes that he won't take advantage of it. He wants Damen to keep him here, to hold him in place. After a moment Damen just smiles, those ridiculous dimples showing on the corners of his mouth, and he reaches out a tentative hand to cup Laurent's face. Laurent lets him do it, and stops himself from leaning into it fully like he wants. Letting Damen touch him like this is enough vulnerability for him, right now. 

"I have quite a lot of bitchy remarks on hand, you know," Laurent murmurs, knowing he's already lost. Has been lost for longer than he'll admit.

"I know," Damen says softly. "I want them all. Just like I want all those times when I can make you forget yourself and laugh at me, or when you smile at me with that heartbreaking smile of yours, or when you pretend you're not ogling me when you think I'm not looking."

Laurent scoffs, or tries to, but then Damen is tilting his face and pressing the lightest, softest kisses against the line of his jaw and it takes everything in him not to whimper and just melt into him. Damen is so close to him now their lips almost touch, and when he speaks again Laurent can feel the whisper of his breath against his lips. "I want you to kiss me, Laurent, if that's what you want too."

Damen doesn't move, even though it would take just a slight shift of his head to kiss Laurent, and Laurent knows that if he wants this--if he can admit to himself that he wants this--that he'll have to close that last distance between them. Pushing Damen away now would be safer, in the long run. Damen won't come back if he's rejected again, something tells him. He's persistent but even he has limits on what his pride can endure, and when they saw each other in the future it would be with forced civility and politeness that would eventually, over time, heal into a bland sort of apathetic understanding, and Laurent could continue to shield himself from everyone around him and keep his battered heart safe. Doing this thing, closing the gap that separates them would only mean that he would have to expose that heart, open it up and show Damen not only how broken and ugly it was but hope and trust that he wouldn't make it even worse by doing so. 

But Laurent realizes that for the first time he _wants_ to hope, _wants_ to trust, and so he does the only thing he really can do and reaches up to kiss him.

Laurent can feel Damen sag in relief when their lips finally touch, and that alone is enough to nearly break him. Damen doesn't seem like he's going to deepen this and so Laurent does, pushing further, feeling Damen open up at his insistence, and Damen's arms are around his waist now and Laurent's hands are on his arms, his ridiculous, muscled arms, and he's pulling Damen closer to him--

"Hey Laurent, are you ready--" Auguste's voice calls out, and then cuts off abruptly. Startled, Laurent jumps back and sees Damen do the same, the two of them looking for all the world like kids caught kissing behind the bleachers, and Laurent turns to see Auguste standing in the doorway, eyes wide and a smile already threatening to engulf his entire stupid face. 

"Oh ho ho!" Auguste laughs, he and leans against the door frame with the most ridiculous expression on his face while Laurent straightens up and crosses his arms protectively. "So when you said nothing much happened this week..." 

"I meant nothing that was any of your business happened," Laurent returns coolly. "Which is still the case."

"Fraternizing with customers," Auguste shakes his head and makes a clucking sound with his tongue, "and on company property. That'll be a write up for sure."

"It was all me," Damen says, not aware that Auguste is playing and drawing this out only to embarrass Laurent. The gesture isn't lost on Laurent though, and his heart squeezes painfully as he realizes that Damen thinks he's protecting him. "I kissed him first--"

Laurent silences him with a flick of his fingers. "Don't you have a store to close? A fiancé to go home to and a precocious nephew to parent? Why are you still here?"

Auguste laughs. "I suppose I should be getting home. I'll let _you_ finish everything up, baby brother. And Damen--" he points a finger at Damen, who moves over in order to hide behind Laurent, his protective instincts apparently having deserted him, "we'll talk about this later."

"No you won't!" Laurent calls out after his retreating form.

"And if you're going to be inviting boys up, leave that door open mister!" Auguste calls back, cackling. After another moment Laurent hears the bells on the front door chime, and the door shuts a second afterwards just a little louder than necessary, a signal that the coast was clear. Even at his worst moments (e.g. right now, when he was being overprotective and embarrassing and playful) Auguste only wanted the best for him.

"Oh my god," Laurent groans, burying his face in his hands, "I can't believe my brother just caught us making out."

"At least we didn't go for round two," Damen says, and Laurent turns to glare at him but Damen just laughs and tips Laurent's chin up so he can plant a quick kiss on his lips. "Let me take you out to dinner. That's why I wanted to come over here tonight. To ask you."

Laurent can still feel the heat in his cheeks from getting caught and teased by his brother, and he turns around to straighten up his desk a little so that Damen can't see him compose himself. He thinks about going out with Damen--like on a date, a real date--and what that would look like: him, with one or two of his walls down, newly sweet in a way that would have Damen bringing out his dimples all night, and Damen, as open and earnest as he always is, making Laurent laugh unexpectedly and seeing straight through all of his defenses. He wants all of that, and more, and he selfishly wants it all for himself, doesn't want to share that with anyone, even strangers.

"I think I'd rather stay in," Laurent says, and when Damen's face falls just a fraction, he quickly says "I still haven't seen John Wick, you know. We could order pizza."

When it's clear what he's asking for Damen's face brightens and those weaponized dimples come out. "You'd like that?"

Laurent lets the feeling that's sweeping through him crest up and subside before answering. "Yeah, I think I would."

It's only a short distance from the bus stop to Damen's apartment and so they opt to walk, since it's a nice day out and not too cold. They walk side by side, their fingers brushing up against each other, teasing, until Laurent can't stand it anymore.

"Oh, will you--" he says, and grabs Damen's hand firmly in his own. "Are you happy now?"

"Very," Damen says, smiling at him. They walk in silence for a moment, hand in hand, until Damen begins chuckling, a giddy, bubbling sound that seems beyond his ability to control.

"What is it?"

"At the library, when you introduced me," Damen says, still giggling. "Damen Bellfleur."

Bellfleur. _Beautiful flower_.

And then Laurent can't help it either and feels laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside of him, somewhere that he thought wasn't capable of feeling happiness anymore, and as he tightens his grip on Damen's hand and Damen squeezes him back he lets himself believe, for the first time in a long, long time, that just maybe he deserves his own happy ending, and he smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Similarities I share with this version of Laurent:  
> I work in a used/antique bookstore  
> A man absolutely tried to sell me a book with a wasp hive on it  
> I have had to deal with more than one scorpion hiding in a box of books  
> I legit had a dude tell me he didn't want to read Bronte because it wasn't "intellectual" enough for him to consider "classic literature"
> 
> Some differences:  
> My name isn't on the front of the bookstore  
> I didn't get to yell at the guy with the wasp hive or the scorpions or the douche bag who wishes he was half as smart as any one of the Brontes  
> Laurent is all beauty and grace and has super hot customers hit on him, while I dropped a copy of Captain Underpants on my face yesterday while I was trying to shelve it and an 85 year old woman I've never met cornered me for 20 minutes to tell me in graphic and excruciating detail about her triple bypass surgery. 
> 
> Also Howliday Inn is a treasure and everyone should read it.


	2. Would You Rather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicaise enlists Laurent and Damen's help for a school project, and he quickly comes to regret it. Laurent and Damen have some fun with the questions after Nicaise is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter rated E.
> 
> Set 6 months or so after the first chapter, but you don't need to have read the first one to understand this one. This is just a little fun and a little porn. Hope you enjoy!

"Wait, what is this for again?"

"My Psychology class," Nicaise says, rolling his eyes. "I have to interview five people. I've already gotten Auguste, Jord and Aimeric, if I can get you two I'll be done. Okay? Can't you please do, like, this one thing for me?"

“Isn't the point probably that you ask people you _don't_ know?” Damen asks.

Nicaise narrows his eyes. “I am _not_ doing that. Besides, I want to get to know you better, uncle Damen,” he says, his voice dripping with syrupy sweetness.

“Did you teach him that?” Damen asks, looking down at Laurent, who's curled up against him on the couch. Laurent smiles and shrugs.

“Okay, first question. Coffee or tea?”

“Tea,” says Laurent.

“Coffee with extra sugar,” says Damen, ignoring the face he knows Laurent is making right now. Nicaise scribbles something on his paper.

“Marvel or DC?”

“Marvel,” says Damen.

“Like Washington DC?” Laurent asks.

“Oh my god, I'm just putting DC for you,” Nicaise says, and then points his pen at Damen viciously. “You need to fix that, okay?”

“Got it,” Damen says, and Laurent looks up at him.

“Is this the part where Nicaise tells me he thinks I'm hopeless?” Laurent asks. 

“If it helps, I'm always thinking that. Next question. Dog or cat?”

“Dog,” says Laurent.

“Dog,” says Damen, and then smiles. “Laurent, we should get a dog!”

Laurent just snorts, and Nicaise says, “No, Damen, the question is if you are a dog person or a cat person.”

“I know, that's what I answered.”

Nicaise rolls his eyes. “You are very obviously not a dog person.”

"What are you talking about? I love dogs," Damen protests. "We had this big Golden Retriever when I was a kid and that dog and I were best friends. Achilles and I went everywhere together. We were like brothers."

"No, yeah, that makes total sense," Nicaise says, "but I don't think that's what the question is really asking."

"What is it asking, then? Because it seems to me like it's asking if I like dogs or cats better, and I'm telling you now I like dogs," Damen says a little petulantly.

Nicaise sends a weary look towards Laurent. "Can you please?"

Laurent smiles and stretches out his arms, looping them together behind him and around Damen's neck, using the leverage to bring Damen's face closer to him. He reaches up and plants a soft kiss on Damen's jaw, and Damen turns into him to meet his lips at this unexpected show of affection but Laurent pulls back and settles back into the crux of Damen's arm. Damen, still reeling from the attention, tightens his arms around him and Laurent swats him away. Realization washes over him suddenly and settles like a cold pit in his stomach.

“Oh my god, I'm a cat person,” Damen says. “My whole life is a lie.”

“Okay, next question,” says Nicaise. “Library or museums?”

“ _I'm_ the dog,” Damen says, and Laurent reaches up to pat his cheek in what is probably supposed to be a comforting gesture. He gives it a moment's thought and shrugs. “Well, I guess I'm lucky I found a dog person, I guess.”

“ _Very_ lucky,” Laurent purrs.

“Can we focus, please?” Nicaise says. “I would like to get this done sometime today and also have this not turn into a gross make out session between the two of you. For once. So. Libraries or museums?”

“Museums,” says Damen, and then looks down at Laurent, who's squirming a little. “Laurent?”

“I mean, I appreciate everything that libraries do for the community,” Laurent says, “because everyone should have access to books, especially people who can't afford them. And reading at an early age is essential for children to build good habits, and libraries provide a space for that. But museums fulfill an important cultural--”

“Okay, writing down museums for Laurent." Laurent lets out a little angry huff, but Nicaise ignores him. "Next question. Would you rather be a vampire or a wizard?”

“All right, these have taken a turn. Wizard, I guess.” Damen says. “Wait, what kind of powers would I have?”

“The question just says wizard or vampire,” Nicaise says, flashing the piece of paper to Damen. “There's no more details about what kinds of wizard or vampire you have to be. But since you already said wizard I'm going to say that means you're going to suddenly be a hundred years old and have a beard down to your knees.”

“Aw man,” says Damen.

“I'm going to pick vampire then,” Laurent says. “I don't think I'd look good with a beard.”

“Okay, but you have to have those eyebrows like the guy from the Munsters,” Nicaise says.

“Is there some choice I can make that won't ruin my whole aesthetic?” Laurent asks.

“No, you've already answered. Besides, I've seen those hickeys on Damen's neck. You're practically a vampire already.”

“Nicaise!”

“Okay, next. Would you rather know how you're going to die or when you're going to die?”

“Jeez, seriously? That's kind of morbid.”

“If you don't want to answer the question I think we'll have the “when” figured out,” Nicaise says, glowering. “Come on, there's only like two questions left.”

“Okay, I guess I'd want to know how,” Damen says, “because I think if I knew when I would die I would just be super depressed until that day came around. And if it was like in fifty years that's a long time to be depressed.”

“I think I would go with when,” Laurent says. “That way I would know that I could do whatever I wanted until the day I was supposed to die.”

“You wouldn't die, but you could still be hurt,” Nicaise says. “Like if you knew you didn't die for two years and you jumped off a building tomorrow you wouldn't die but you would still break all of your bones.”

Laurent scrunches up his nose. “Well, it doesn't matter anyway. I'm a vampire, so I can only die by sunlight or stakes. If I jumped off a building I would just turn into a bat and fly away.”

“No, Laurent, the answers don't carry over,” Nicaise says.

“I would use my wizard powers to save you,” Damen says. “Or maybe I could make a potion or something that would make it so we wouldn't be cursed with any knowledge about our deaths so you wouldn't go jumping off of random buildings. Or I could make you invulnerable to stakes, or something.”

“I practically never see the sun anyway,” Laurent says, “so I don't think it'll be the sun that kills me. If I had special wizard armor I would basically live forever.”

“And I'm going to be an ancient dog wizard who lives in a museum,” Damen says, “who sells super sugary coffee as a side hustle.”

“Wait, are you a wizard who is a dog, or a wizard who only helps dogs? And in either case, would the disgustingly sweet coffee be for people or dogs?” Laurent asks him.

“You guys are not taking this seriously!” Nicaise whines.

“If you hadn't tried to steal my mocha frappachino that one time you wouldn't even be cursed with the knowledge of my sickly sweet beverages,” Damen says.

“It looked so good, though,” Laurent says, wonderingly. “How could that much whip cream and chocolate be so disgusting?”

“Can you two idiots please,” Nicaise says, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a pretty good imitation of Laurent whenever his patience hits its limit, “please just pay attention? I have literally two more questions and then I promise you that I will lock myself in my room for at least half an hour and I won't come out no matter what strange sounds I hear. Deal?”

Damen shares a look with Laurent. A whole half hour?

“Deal,” they say in unison.

“Okay. Would you rather speak all languages on earth or be able to speak to animals?”

“I guess I would want to be able to speak to animals, just in case Damen gets turned into a dog wizard.”

“Aww babe, you would want to still be with me even if I was a dog?” Damen says, squeezing Laurent.

“No,” Laurent says, wriggling out of his grasp, “I would just want to be able to tell you that I'm going to be seeing other people and I would want to make sure you understand that.”

“Ouch. Okay, I'm gonna go with the animal one too. There's this squirrel that made a nest outside on the fire escape and I want to ask him what his deal is.”

“He is pretty noisy,” Laurent murmurs, settling back against Damen.

“That's all you would do with your ability to talk to animals?” Nicaise asks. “Ask some stupid squirrel what his deal is?”

“There's also this cat that I see sometimes on my way to work that I think would be a good bookstore cat. So maybe I'd ask her if she wants to be a bookstore cat.”

“No cats,” Laurent says crossly. “I've got books in there worth thousands of dollars, I don't need some crazy cat peeing all over them or knocking them onto the floor.”

“Well if I could talk to her I'd obviously tell her she couldn't do those things,” Damen points out. “She's just so fluffy! And I think she'd be really good at it.”

Nicaise shakes his head. “I take it all back. I should have just approached strangers on the street. That would be way easier than dealing with you two.”

“Aww, you love us,” Laurent says, nudging him with his foot. Nicaise swats it away.

“Last question. Thank the lord. If you were a monarch would you rather be feared by all or loved by all?”

“Feared. Definitely feared,” says Laurent.

“Loved,” Damen answers, frowning down at Laurent. “You wouldn't really, Laurent.”

“Oh yes I would. Machiavelli had it right on this one--if you can only pick one, you pick fear. It comes more naturally to me anyway.”

“Like how all of your employees fear you!” Nicaise says, gathering up his papers.

“Yes, thank you Nicaise,” Laurent says dryly.

“Well, I'm going to go write my paper with my findings. I think I might title it, “Adults Who Never Grew Up: Interpreting Moronic Answers to These Dumb Questions”. Do you think the teacher will like it?”

“It's Auguste's turn to go to the parent/teacher conference this time, so go for it,” Laurent calls out to his retreating form. Damen can hear Nicaise chuckling as he closes the door to his room behind him.

“There's a flaw in your plan, you know,” Damen says, once Nicaise has locked himself in his room, the soft beats from his stereo thrumming through the floor after a moment. 

“Oh? And what flaw would that be,” Laurent asks, twisting out of his position at Damen's side. In a smooth movement he's flipped around and is now straddling Damen's lap, knees on either side of Damen's thighs, digging into the cushions. Damen feels a thrill run through him as he sees that feral grin on Laurent's mouth, a grin that promises they will be putting this next half hour to very good use.

“You said you wanted to be feared by all. But if I'm one of your subjects, I'm not going to fear you," Damen tells him. 

“You have to, though. The curse has been set forth by the all mighty Nicaise, and can't be changed. You will be forced to act under the constraints of the all powerful “would you rather” curse.”

But Damen just shakes his head. “There's no curse or power in the universe that could keep me from loving you, Laurent.”

Laurent's eyes go wide for the briefest second, a startling flash of blue in the afternoon light.

"You're ridiculous," Laurent whispers, leaning in to kiss Damen, but Damen can feel the truth in the way he kisses him that belies those words. Laurent kisses him hungrily, invitingly, and as he bites down on Damen's bottom lip he feels the familiar fluttering of butterflies in his stomach that he doesn't ever think he'll get used to, like every kiss is their first, like every word is a promise of something more, like every moment they spend together is the best thing either one of them has ever done. Laurent breaks away and looks down at him with dark intention. 

"I think that if I tried hard enough, I could make you a little fearful,” Laurent whispers in his ear, arms winding around his neck. “I have my own question for you. Would you rather I suck your cock right here in the living room or would you rather I do it in the bedroom?”

It's not fear that goes through Damen then but surprise; Laurent doesn't offer to blow him very often, for all that he was incredible at it whenever he did do it, and Damen mostly figures that it is something that he just doesn't enjoy doing very often and so he doesn't push him. But now he can see the eagerness in Laurent's face, can feel another kind of eagerness pressed against him as well, and he knows that Laurent wouldn't offer it so bluntly unless he really, really wanted to do this. And Damen--well. Damen was never one to turn down an eager Laurent.

"Bedroom," Damen strangles out, unable to keep his hands from roaming all over Laurent's waist, his ass, his thighs. Every part of him was perfect; every part of him fit so beautifully under his hands, and at the moment he was unable to choose which spot was his favorite.

"Hmm, you're choosing bedroom? But you know, I'm also not constrained by the "would you rather" curse," he says, and somehow manages to slide to the floor in an elegant, graceful movement until he's kneeling in front of Damen, "and I am still trying to make you a little fearful, so." He slides his fingers up to Damen's pants and unzips, freeing Damen's already mostly hard cock.

"Laurent, we can't..." Damen gasps, already surrendering himself to the fact that this is going to happen right here, right now, right in the middle of their living room and with all of the windows wide open, and he knows he won't put up any sort of meaningful resistance to it, not with Laurent on his knees in front of him looking up at him with those blues eyes swirling with mischief and lust in equal measures. Laurent had always pushed boundaries when it came to showing affection in public, which surprised Damen, seeing as how he was so private in every other aspect of his life, but he had accepted the fact that the both of them would eventually be charged with some sort of public indecency because while he didn't get off on it like Laurent seemed to he was always unable to resist him whenever he got like this. It would be worth it, though. Laurent always was.

"We've got half an hour," Laurent says, reaching out with his tongue to lick the head of Damen's cock, testing, and Damen's entire body jerks in response, "or perhaps more like twenty six minutes. Even though I normally commend your stamina I don't think you'll last that long."

"I might," Damen says, and he can already feel his blood pounding, a rhythmic drum through his ears. "Remember that time we went for--"

"Seven hours, yes I know," Laurent says drily, giving him another lick, and Damen has to forcibly stop his hips from thrusting forward. "I was there, remember? And incredibly sore the next day. Next few days, actually. But I don't think that amount of time is an option right now." He takes Damen's length into his mouth and Damen stifles a groan, even though the loud music coming from the other room is probably enough to muffle any untoward noises, and after a short amount of time--much, much too short--Laurent pulls off again. "Although I could just tease you like this for the foreseeable future, if you want. Do you think the neighbors can see us?"

Damen strangles out something that could have, at one point, been English, as Laurent swallows him again, far enough that Damen is convinced he's hitting the back of his throat, and Laurent's eyes start to water. Again, after too short of a moment, he agonizingly pulls off again, still close enough that Damen can feel his breath.

"If someone was watching, would you want me to stop? Or are you too far gone already to worry about how we're going to scandalize that little old lady across the way?"

"I think there are better things you could be doing with your mouth than trying to embarrass me," Damen says.

"Barbarian," Laurent says smugly.

"Laurent..." Damen groans, but Laurent is already smiling at him before going down on him in earnest and he knows that Laurent is right about one thing, at least; he's _not_ going to be able to last that long. Laurent licks a long stripe down his cock and Damen forces his hands to stay by his side, grasping the couch cushions in a death grip, wishing he could run his fingers through Laurent's hair but knowing that he doesn't like to be touched when he's doing this. He lets himself focus on the glorious sight in front of him, blond hair bobbing between his legs, Laurent's cheeks hollowed out as he takes Damen's length in. Laurent hasn't set a pace, not yet; he's continuing to tease Damen, either in punishment for what he said earlier or because he just wants to or any other millions of reasons that Laurent does anything that Damen can never fathom, and he draws it out until every nerve in Damen's body is singing. Every once in a while Laurent flicks his bright blue eyes up to see if Damen is watching him, and Damen lives for those moments when their eyes connect and he can see just how much Laurent is enjoying himself; it's that, almost more than anything, that does him in. 

"Laurent," Damen says again, this time pleading, and Laurent knows what he's asking for and he sets a pace that he knows Damen likes. Damen is strung as tightly as a trip wire, ready to go off at the slightest provocation and then Laurent looks up at him, mouth full of Damen's cock, and he _winks_ , he fucking _winks_ at him, and that's enough to send Damen right over the edge--sure-fire, cocky, arrogant Laurent--and Laurent swallows him down in one easy motion.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Damen says, panting, as Laurent stands so that he can clean himself up. Damen can hear him puttering around in the kitchen, taking a moment to collect himself before he returns with two glasses of water, one for each of them. Damen drains his in one gulp before dragging Laurent back into his lap, nuzzling into his hair as Laurent laughs and tries to settle into a more comfortable position without spilling the rest of his water.

"I don't suppose there's enough time to return the favor, is there?" Damen murmurs.

"A full half an hour wouldn't even be enough time to do so, let alone however long we have left," Laurent chastises him with mock annoyance. "Don't worry, Auguste is coming over to pick up Nicaise at 6. We'll have all night for you to thank me for it."

"A hundred years wouldn't be long enough to thank you for it," Damen says, feeling sleepy. He can hear Laurent laugh softly as he picks up the book he was reading before Nicaise came in and pestered them, and Damen's about to fall asleep completely when music starts blasting from Nicaise's room. Europe's "The Final Countdown" fills the apartment, rattling the windows, and Damen shakes his head.

"No wonder the neighbors hate us," he says, resting his chin on the top of Laurent's head and resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get a post orgasm nap. 

"I doubt it's the music that does it," Laurent says, the noise apparently not bothering his reading. "The marathon sex sessions are probably what annoys them the most."

"Mmm, you're probably right," Damen says, kissing the tender spot behind Laurent's ear. He can feel Laurent try and fail to repress a shiver, and a second later feels an elbow in his ribs. It's at that moment that Nicaise pops his head out of his room, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Is there anything going on out here an innocent youth like myself shouldn't be seeing?" He asks, with "The Final Countdown" playing just a little louder with the door open. 

"If there was, I think the ear splitting music was enough warning," Laurent calls out. "Turn it down, please."

Nicaise obliges and comes out of his room, eyeing the two of them warily. After staring at the two of them with narrowed eyes for a moment he apparently decides on something because he goes back into his room, grabs his Nintendo Switch and plops down on the couch.

"You guys are lame," he says, starting up his game. "I give you two half an hour and you spend it reading on the couch? Has the honeymoon period really come and gone that quickly?"

Laurent looks up at Damen and smiles before turning back to Nicaise. "Would you rather know the truth, or have your innocence preserved and have me lie?"

Nicaise looks at Laurent with an unamused gaze before returning to his game, but he's smiling when he says, "I think that was enough of an answer for me, thank you very much. I have a new rule. No more "would you rather" questions for, oh, a billion years, okay?"

"Fine by me," Laurent agrees.

"I dunno, I thought they were kind of fun," Damen says, and Nicaise and Laurent lock eyes.

"Dogs," Nicaise scoffs, and Laurent throws back his head and laughs and laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wasn't originally going to post this because...whatever, it was just a silly little thing, but I am still needing to go into work during this pandemic and I'm nervous and scared about the future and my job and my loved ones and I wanted to do something fun that would hopefully bring a smile to a few people's faces. I hope someone gets some enjoyment out of it! I love reading comments if you're so inclined, I really do appreciate them.


End file.
